A Love Story
by Missy Jade
Summary: Out of his greatest tragedy, a love story begins... includes JR and OC, Zendall, hints of TadDixie, BrookeAdam, StuartMarian [Chandler family fic]
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I am neither Agnes Nixon nor her Muse, great being that it clearly is. Hence I do not own any of these characters or places or flashbacks. However, I own the characters Micaela Kincaide and her father, Amy Cohen, Maxine Malone, Harley Jacobs and all related places like the Kincaide ranch and Amy's childhood home and her uncle. _

_Summary: 'Out of his greatest tragedy, a love story begins…' A single lie will forever impact that world in Pine Valley as the Chandler family searches for its roots and JR Chandler fights to deal. After finding the one thing he needs most, he will find himself something he never knew was waiting for him. Couples include JR/OC, Zach/Kendall, Tad/Dixie, Adam/Brooke; hints of Stuart/Marian, David/Greenlee, Bianca/Maggie; eventually Ryan/Kendall friendship. _

_**A Love Story:**_

1)

_On January 5, 2005, a memorial was held for Adam Chandler III. The child's father, JR Chandler, did not attend. He had, at the time, no way of knowing that the child he was mourning for was, in fact, on the run with ex-wife Babe Carey and one-time step-brother Jamie Martin. _

_About a year from then, the child would bring his father back from a devastating state of mind, reunite a family torn apart in the savageness of time. _

_A year after that would see Babe Carey scheming to get JR and her son back by any means necessary and Jamie Martin searching for some way to find his own redemption._

_But that is another story. _

_The story today covers one year and four months of JR Chandler's life. _

_It is a story of the intricacies of Fate and the true deviousness of the Irony Gods. Yet, is "devious" really a bad thing when the eventual ending (if you can call it that and if we ever get there) is so bright and happy?_

_Is all the hurt and chaos and pain worth how well this story will eventually end?_

_JR likes to think so. _

_This story begins, like many long and exhausting stories begin, with a woman. _

_Or, to be specific, a bi-racial woman who, despite her best tries cannot stand higher than 5'3. A woman who carries a paperback copy of some Stephan King book everywhere she goes. A woman who, at age 21, started a foundation to help those who cannot help themselves. _

_A woman who cannot, and will never be able to, drive. This is not to say she does not try. This is to say that the car, in some demented vendetta against her, refuses to obey. When she instructs it to forward, it will go back. When she turns left, the car will turn right. _

_Somehow, in her 25 years, she has not killed, or injured, a single man or beast. _

_Sadly, a large assortment of parked cars, telephone poles, fire hydrants, walls, mailboxes, bikes, mountains of manure and/or dirt, bulldozers and a church would not agree with this statement. _

_It is not known how these objects and places were able to disagree. _

_This woman, Micaela Kincaide, is about to become a victim of both Fate and the all-powerful Irony Gods. She will start a chain of motions that will lead to the destruction, recovery, re-destruction and eventual full recovery of several beloved families of Pine Valley._

_She, like JR, thinks that the eventual full recovery of aforementioned families was completely worth all the Hell that took over Pine Valley for nearly five years._

_And, yes, it all began with her latest attempt at driving on January 6, 2005. _

* * *

JR Chandler witnessed the complete and total destruction of his brand-new Mercedes-Benz from the step of the FUSION building, where he had gone to have lunch with Kendall.

One minute his new baby was waiting for him, shining and bright and happy to see him.

The next a blur of blue metal and clear glass hit his perfectly parked car with enough force to slam the Mercedes up the curb and into a telephone pole.

His baby never had a chance.

Seeing the small figure climb from the murder weapon, a 2004 blue Porsche, he stared, horrified.

A teenager! A teenager trying to play CEO in a skirt suit, her black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She bounced up and down, arms flying, and he could hear screeching very faintly across the parking lot.

She was going to jail.

JR made the decision in a fraction of a heartbeat before he exploded into a blur of movement, hoping he looked every bit as deadly as her now-totaled murder weapon.

The shrieking woman, who seemed to be getting smaller the closer he got, saw the pissed-off young male about three cars away.

Her reaction was instantaneous. If she had run over, apologized profusely and paid him back, he probably would have never thought twice. If she had jumped into her car and somehow managed to flee the scene of the homicide, he would have tracked her ass down and put her away.

She did neither and in that single act, as he would later come to realize, she had completely and utterly captured his heart. In that single moment she owned him, Chandler and Cooney sides both, something never done before.

For the first time in his long and tiring existence, Cooney and Chandler agreed: "This was his woman."

However, this understanding would not come until months later, when his defenses were lowered by a fever and a strangely horrifying nightmare.

On that morning, JR was simply pissed.

The little teenager froze, eyes growing wide, arms stilling in mid-fling, suspended, for a heartbeat on one foot, in mid-bounce. And then, she screamed.

And he lunged at her.

And she darted away, screeching again, as she ran around her car to avoid him.

And he realized that she was no teenager. Oh, she was young, probably not older than 23. But she was no teenager, which was proven by more than the generous curves.

As she bounced on the other side of the wreck, babbling about insurance and God knows what, he realized why she looked so little.

She was little. Even in the two-inch heels, she was an itty-bitty thing.

Glaring at her over the remains of her car, he studied her more intently.

Small, curvy, skin the color of cappuccino. Skirt suit and heels, both black.

"Look, Miss CEO, gimme your name."

She just shook her head, long ponytail whipping. "It was an accident."

The Chandler half unsheathed his claws; his blue eyes seeming to darken as his face tightened. "Accident?"

A smile curved her lips and the change was startling, though no one would have able to pick up any hint of surprise in his eyes. He put the quick swing of emotion in a box marked "Miss CEO" and carefully set it aside, to use it later, before he again focused on her.

The panic hopping, flinging and screeching changed gracefully to a calm coolness. She stood straighter, with one hip cocked slightly to the side, the smile curving her lips with a surprising grace. Even her eyes changed, the brown depths calming and he thought, with not _just_ a bit of irritation, that the shift resembled nothing so much as cooling chocolate.

The sudden burst of metaphor didn't please him, only caused his anger to flare further. Struggling to remain calm, _had enough bad blood pressure from Dad_, he leaned forward and set his hands flat on the hood of the Porsche. "My car was parked, Ms…?"

"Kincaide."

Growing up with chronic liars, both Martin and Chandler, he felt his instincts flex in warning. The name was vaguely familiar, but he was too irritated to think about it now. Instead, he watched her carefully.

Still, her voice wasn't horrible to hear, soft, elegant, but not overly rich, something that always made him scowl.

"Ms. Kincaide, my car, my brand-new car, was parked. Had been parked for the last hour and a half."

No answer and he clenched his hands across the hood. And then he saw the bag.

So did she.

She lunged, flinging open the door of the other side, but the door on his side was still open from when she had come flying out. Before she had even reached the right side he had scooped up the black beaded bag.

And slammed the door in her face, getting a screech of "son of a bitch!" from Miss CEO.

Ripping open the zipper, he dug around, cringing slightly at the tampon. Pen, cell phone…

"Give me my bag!"

… some kind of book, small silk bag of what must be make-up…

"Hey!" He spun when she launched herself at him, turning his back on her Screeching Highness.

… wallet!

And Miss CEO jumped onto his back with yet another screech, small fists pounding his shoulders.

With a grunt he flung her off, dropped the bag and tore open the wallet, thumbing through credit cards and pictures, searching for the… driver's license!

Smirking, he glanced down at her, sprawled on the asphalt, legs flung out, strands of hair loose and stuck to her face. "Well, Micaela Kincaide, you are going to go to jail. For killing my new car!"

Which was when, of course, the Martins showed up.

* * *

Okay, the guy who picked her up wasn't bad. She shoved him away, stalking shakily back to Mr. Purse-Stealer. He seemed to be calling the police, looking _extremely_ angry.

"Hey, buddy, just tell me the name and I'll just pay you back!" _Yeah, let's be nice to the Loony-tune._

He just gave her an extremely rude gesture and she couldn't fight her annoyed "Ugh!"

Pa was going to kill her. Especially if he had to fly in to Pennsylvania just to pay her bail. Micaela doubted Amy would be able to. Amy, wild child that she was, would probably just decide to break her out by use of helicopter.

God, the image was so clear. Even down to the_ 'Mission: Impossible'_ theme in the background.

"Come on, who hasn't hit a parked car!"

No answer as he addressed some guy called Derek. Maybe she should jump back onto him, get his attention.

_What if you break your ass again, Micaela?_

Okay, not a good idea. Her ass, her favorite body part, was already sore, probably already bruised.

Micaela, deep in thought and patting said ass painfully, nearly had a stroke when a cell phone was shoved into her face, followed by a male hand. _A rather attractive male hand_, her libido added thoughtfully.

"You are going to jail! And you are going to pay me back!"

"No, not jail! My Pa will kill me! Come on, I'll write you a check!" Oh God, she was going to jail.

"Come on, JR. Give the girl a break!"

"Yes, listen to Mr. Blue Eyes here… JR? Geez, why don't you just wear an 'I love _Dallas_' shirt?"

When his only answer was to get even angrier, she gave a single squeak and darted back to the older couple by Mr. Blue Eyes. Shoving her things back into her bag, she watched him as he advanced forward, seeming to grow bigger with each step.

"_Tad_ is not involved in this!" A furious gesture toward Blue Eyes. "You hit my parked car, you totaled it! You are going to spend, if I have my way, your life in prison!" This so stated, he flung the license in her direction, getting yet another squeak from Micaela.

For long moments, they simply glared and all three of the strangers, "Tad" included, seemed to catch that any word would be dangerous.

_Just don't run girl, dogs can smell fear._

Micaela wholeheartedly agreed with her brain, never broke his eye contact.

Until she saw the police car entering the parking lot.

"For God's sake JR, it was an accident! Just let her pay you back!"

Micaela leaped up to stand beside the speaker, Tad, and gestured at the wreck. "You have no idea how incredibly sorry I am, really! Just let me write you a check."

The police car turned, coming closer, and she uttered another squeak, clearly imagining the conversation with her father. "Please!"

Her clothes were ruined, her hair stuck to her face and her three tampons were scattered across the parking lot; she was truly a pathetic sight, begging someone not to get her arrested. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

JR watched her, face emotionless as the police car pulled up, parking at the curb. The black man who got out stared at the wreck in open-mouthed amazement for a moment before heading over, shaking his head in disgust.

He greeted the older couple as Joe and Ruth, nodding to Tad before turning his attention to JR.

"What is this, Chandler?"

"No!"

All attention shifted to the small woman who had let out the cry. Running up to the officer, she grabbed his arm. "Chandler? Please, oh please, tell me I didn't just total a Chandler car!"

The officer gave her a look of deep pity, nodding his head at first the wreck, then the young man. "You did Ms… "

"Kincaide," she supplied, dark eyes latched onto the now-smiling Chandler. Too smart. Way too smart.

"Ms. Kincaide, could you please explain what happened to Mr. Chandler's car?"

She stared at Chandler. If he wasn't jumping in with his story, than he knew he had the case. Which, yeah, he did. Micaela shifted her gaze to the officer. "Well, Mr.…"

"Frye."

"Mr. Frye, this accident was entirely my fault. See, I just happened to hit Mr. Chandler's car. However, I will be paying him back… with interest!"

Frye nodded, sighed and turned back to Chandler, "Accidents happen Mr. Chandler, just let her – "

"My car was parked, Derek."

And just like that, Micaela Kincaide found herself behind the bars in Pine Valley jail, contemplating how to break the news to her father and who exactly she should call in a new town.

_

* * *

And so it started, soon spiraling out of control, turning Pine Valley upside down._

_Unfortunately, Pine Valley wouldn't be the only place to hit the fan before it was over. _

_A familiar town called Llanview would soon follow suit and a family grieving for decades would discover painful truths long hidden and family members long lost._

_You are now entering the little town called Pine Valley. Buckle your seatbelts and hang on tight. _


	2. Chapter 2

_**A Love Story:**_

2)

Adam Chandler had no idea about what to do. He sat in the front room of the mansion, staring at the fire, holding a Scotch he hadn't touched since he'd poured it an hour before. Stuart, though loving as Hell, was no help whatsoever, telling Adam to just sit and let JR heal.

But Stuart was not JR's father; he had no idea what had to be done. Adam conveniently forgot that Stuart had raised Scott in his dark musings.

No, what JR needed was a new wife, a new child. And this time…

Bess's nursery was untouched since he'd left it a week before, the crib ready and waiting for a child that would never come home. He'd finally crawled out of the nursery after a good week, locking himself in his rooms before leaving one morning for work.

He was on automatic. Leave before sunrise, keep himself busy to the brink of exhaustion then come back home and lock himself back in his room. He'd barely said a word to anyone, not even Erica, who was currently trying to convince Bianca…

Adam tightened his hold on the glass, jaw clenching as he felt the familiar surge of anger. Bianca Montgomery. Traitorous little bitch.

Adam could still see her face that day at Erica's, defending Carey, begging both to let the little slut live happily after ever with that greedy excuse for a brother. Erica had been as livid as Adam, but seeing as how that daughter's conception had been enjoyable…

Who would've thought that Hart would be the only one to get close enough to at least comfort JR?

Kendall Hart might be the most conniving little shrew in Pine Valley but, as far as Adam was concerned right now, she was the only person to remember the true meaning of loyalty. She'd been the only one allowed into that nursery during that awful week, the only one he was talking to now. Had barely left the mansion except to change clothes. Hell, the last three days she'd even brought along clothes and pulled a chair into the nursery to sleep there!

Now, she was a woman!

JR needed a woman like that, strong, loyal, steadfast, able to just sit and give that silent support that was all too precious. Unfortunately, Pine Valley was sorely lacking in the loyal women category. There was Brooke, but just the thought of that caused Adam to shudder.

The gears in Adam's head turned as he finally took a sip of the Scotch, watching the whip and sway of flame. Perhaps outside the Pennsylvania state area? Maybe.

Bianca Montgomery would probably whisper those lies of Babe's to the new wife, all about the evil Chandler seed and nothing about the Martin and Carey way of doing things… stealing, lying, destroying hearts that were already fragile before. So, the woman would need to get the real truth of JR before little Montgomery came in to ruin it, steal even more of JR's happiness.

How dare she keep the child from JR! Hire armed guards if you will, but to do that… Even Hart, who loved Montgomery more than anyone else, had raged about that. Pacing back and forth in front of Adam, positively boiling. What kind of a woman could do that?

Little bitch had shown her true colors, refusing to let JR even see Miranda, say good-bye, just because she hadn't liked Miranda's first word. Adam's own fury had paled in comparison to Kendall's. She was still on cold terms with Montgomery, though she was attempting to figure out a way to let JR see Miranda for a second.

Not that it would do any good. The moment, the moment that could have made JR's pain so much easier to bear had been ripped away by her surge of jealousy.

Yes, a woman like Kendall, a woman with that kind of class and caring and, when she was backed into a corner, claws like a jungle cat. Oh, yes, a woman who was not afraid to come out and rip people like Bianca Montgomery and Babe Carey to shreds.

Adam's plan was coming together as he pieced together pieces of a perfect woman. Strong, lethal, fierce to protect him, but also gentle and, in some ways, vulnerable.

There'd need to be more than just that deadly side, Adam realized as he glanced up at the picture on the mantle. There'd need to be some Dixie there, a deep well of love and trust and tenderness for him. Babe had projected that and he'd fallen full force, which was how they'd come to be here.

Standing, Adam walked to the picture, studied the curves and curls and blue eyes and smile of Dixie Cooney. What he needed was a perfect blend of Kendall Hart and Dixie Cooney. Despite Dixie's constant battling with him, she'd always tried to include Adam in his son's life. And that…

For the first time since he'd gotten that DNA test back, he really smiled, the final pieces of the puzzle clicking together.

Oh yes, he could get them together, give JR the loving family he deserved.

After all, who said the marriage had to come before the child?

It was a testimony to Adam's scheming mechanism that he didn't bat an eye when JR Chandler strode into the room, raging.

At least, he didn't bat an eye about the scheme. But the fact that JR could be mistaken for a living man? Oh, yes, that surprised him.

"JR?"

JR didn't answer, storming across the room and seizing a bottle of Scotch before spinning and tearing up the staircase to his room.

And Adam was left staring at the again-empty room, eyes wide. It had been the most of any emotion, other than grief, that JR had displayed in weeks. And, more than that, it was a familiar emotion that Adam had experienced a thousand times… each time in the company of Brooke English.

And Adam Chandler smiled, looked up at the ceiling and cocked his head. "Lottie, you always did know how my head worked, didn't you?"

* * *

Kendall Hart had given up on discovering Greenlee's secret for today. Now, she searched her cabinets for a bottle of tequila. God, she needed a drink. A nice couple of shots of tequila, maybe a glass of her Christmas present from JR, that bottle of bourbon.

She had no idea how he'd found out that she was a bourbon girl.

Today was shot. After she'd driven JR home to the Chandler mansion, she'd been unable to get back into the groove at FUSION, mainly because of the fact that Greenlee had disappeared for a good hour that morning and had been back when Kendall had gotten back from lunch with JR. Finally, only an hour after she'd gotten there, she'd fled, heading back to her place.

Ignoring Bianca's messages for a girls' night out—_like Bianca cared_—she'd shed her dress and heels for a terry robe.

What the Hell was Greenlee hiding? Well, Kendall sure as Hell had a big 'ol suspicion, but then, Greenlee would never do that to her loving husband.

With a laugh, Kendall headed into the living room carrying the bottle of tequila, found hidden behind her glasses, a lime and salt.

If Greenlee was having an affair, which it certainly looked like, who was the unlucky guy? Well, if that old saying about mothers and daughters was true, than Greenlee probably had herself a cabana boy. Yet, even Greenlee was more stylish. Maybe a waiter? Probably a dumbwaiter?

Huh. Kendall flipped on the TV, laughing at her own joke. Dumbwaiter. Too funny.

Usually, she'd be watching _Benny Hill_ or _Monty Python_ with Ethan on a Friday night, but seeing as how he was somewhere in Northern England this week, she was without her best friend to muse with. Who would've thought her best friend at the age of 29 would be a Oxford graduate with an obsession for British comedy and American gossip and a schoolboy crush on Simone Torres?

_Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he _is_ gay_.

Sure, he'd had his share of girlfriends, and hey, Simone, but really, what straight man has more fun watching _Desperate Housewives_ than his own wacky British soccer? Sure, he said it was for the eye candy, but what if his eye candy was more along the lines of a gardener than a housewife?

Now grinning, Kendall found BBCA, and brightened further to see that it was playing, would you look at that, Monty Python. Okay, yes, she missed her British pal, but, really, she could survive a week without him.

As Eric Idle began a scene, she contemplated her evidence, grimacing at the word "evidence". Too much time with Uncle Jack, she decided, taking a quick shot of her tequila.

Greenlee's affair, and by now Kendall _knew_ that's what it was, had begun during the week of the New Year, and Greenlee had begun showing the signs only a day or two after the New Year.

And, most importantly, the affair was continuing. A week long affair might not be a big deal to some people but for Greenlee to cheat on the love of her life? Gasp! No! Horrors!

Kendall wondered if she was enjoying this just a bit too much. Pausing, she considered that, really mulled, thought about everything they had put her through.

And then she threw back her head, toasted whoever had gotten into Greenlee's ugly little pants and howled with laughter.

Hypocrites deserved whatever crap hit the fan.

* * *

Micaela Kincaide was jailed at about half past two; at three in the morning, Amy managed to bail her out. The black-haired wild child had thankfully not resorted to escape by helicopter, although Micaela had a sneaking suspicion that she had seen a card for hot air balloons on the dashboard of her dusky blue car.

Dropping Micaela off at her new apartment, Amy headed to the Pine Cone.

The apartment, a studio place, was still stuffed with her many boxes and bags and she knew full well that she'd probably never unpack most of it; most would either be put in storage or shoved into the corners.

Heading to the only part of her place made up, her bed, she kicked off her heels and rolled into bed with out even undoing her hair. She was in a comatose state before her head hit the pillow. Her father had always found it funny how quickly she could fall asleep; called her "Sleepy" when she was young.

And so Micaela slept, like a log, until she was jarred awake by a nightmarish screeching. After a moment of grunting, she managed to open her eyes and knock the clock off the desk. The screeching dies away with a pathetic "eeeh" as she dropped her head dully back to the bed.

She cringed at the drool stain, but couldn't pick back up her head. Micaela could feel sunlight, a warm heat spread over her back, legs and arms. As she lay there, she wondered where the Hell her blanket was and why she was wearing an eight hundred dollar suit in bed.

Her mind fuzzed, melting back into the sweet waters of sleep before with a jerk, she remembered _him_.

Chandler. Adam-fucking-Chandler Jr.

Groaning, she turned her head, staring blearily at the sunlit wall. When he found out that she was out, he'd probably try to smoke her out. At least, that's the impression he gave her. Contemplating him, she stared, wishing absently for Trump, her stuffed penguin. But he was on that counter over there, and her telekinesis wasn't working today.

Micaela could not spend her time in Pine Valley trying to avoid the long arm of the Chandlers, not if she wanted to get the Foundation a headquarters people could recognize. Her biggest chance was Bianca Montgomery but with the –

The young woman stopped, all traces of sleep fading. Chandler.

As in, JR Chandler, as in, kidnapped baby. Pa had followed the story intensely and had sent his best wishes to Adam Chandler Sr. at the same time, mourning himself for that lost time.

But then, considering how dear mommy Kincaide had dealt with the divorce… As far as Buck Kincaide was concerned, Arabella Carey deserved to be sent to Hell for her part in that horrible incident. People were looking for Krystal Carey, who had somehow disappeared.

Micaela could still remember her father after all of it had ended. Even now, almost two decades later, he still called her up to make sure she was okay. The fear didn't end; sometimes it could lessen, but it never vanished.

_What is it like to lose two children?_

Micaela couldn't imagine, she simply couldn't. Having grown up an only child, Micaela didn't understand sibling dynamics; she'd been raised by her father, and she fought to erase her first six years with her pathetic excuse for a mother.

And she'd never had any kids.

So what must it be like?

"_Like you've lost your heart."_

Her father said it all the time, and now she wondered if it got more painful when it went past kidnapping and into death.

It had to, didn't it? Because, no matter how horrible a child being taken must be, there was still a kind of hope. A hope that the child could be back in your arms. But death?

There was no hope, no one who could say "maybe" or "what if" and bring the child back.

Now awake, Micaela reached up and pushed her matted hair from her face as she raised her head and pushed herself back against her bedpost.

Her fury towards Chandler had settled down and left her feeling chilled, like a frozen winter after a scorching summer. Now, as she fought the touch of sympathy, she tried to fight her first instincts to run over and offer her sincerest apologies.

No.

But what about the Foundation?

Micaela, groaning, finally climbed out of bed and staggered to the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror.

It was times like these that she hated her conscience.

_

* * *

Somewhere in Switzerland…_

"_Do you feel like you can't catch your breath? And you think you're just about to fall?"_

"… _Yeah."_

"_And you know that, no matter how far you fall, you're never going to hit the ground? You're just so far above it? And you just keep getting higher… and higher… and higher… and you're afraid you're never going to come down?"_

"_Yeah… Yeah, that's exactly it… What?"_

"_It's never occurred to you, has it?"_

"_What?"_

"_You're in love with me."_

"_No."_

With a strangled gasp, she bolted upright, finding herself in the shadows of her own bedroom. For a moment the pull was so strong, she found herself reaching out to the other side of the bed, finding it empty.

It was empty.

Except…

Shivering, she huddled down in the blankets, shaking as she stared at the ceiling. There it was, an odd tingle along her spine, and across her stomach. She could smell aftershave, soap, and something else.

His aftershave, his soap, his something else.

Reaching up, she brushed a few loose blonde curls back, swallowing, closing her eyes…these dreams had to stop, they just had to… because they were driving her mad.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A Love Story:**_

3)

Less than an hour after his son locked himself upstairs with a bottle of Scotch, Adam Chandler had Micaela Kincaide's complete history sitting on his desk.

With the remains of a dinner sitting nearby and his jacket hung on the back of his chair, he delved into her history.

Adopted at two days old by Buck Kincaide, head of Kincaide Incorporated. Now there was a conceited bastard.

Adam, along with many of his equals in the business world, saw him as an annoying waste of flesh. Somehow, he'd popped up overnight, along with his company, which had somehow become far too powerful in far too short a time. And that wife of his…

Lynette Franklin married him just three months before they adopted her and, clearly, was not a loving mother. Finally, when Micaela was four, Kincaide had been smart enough to divorce her. Lynette, however, hadn't been too willing.

That two-year period sat on the corner of the desk, still untouched. It hit Adam too close to home, especially now.

Graduated from college with a degree in Child Psychology, something about brat behavior and trauma recovery.

At age 21, she created the Kincaide Foundation, a charity that helped to influence minority adoptions and foster families. The Foundation was why she had come to Pine Valley in the first place, trying to get an interview with that Montgomery bitch.

Micaela Kincaide also had the most horrid driving record that Adam had ever seen. She'd hit everything from her own garage at age 16 to an old church, destroying the back wall at age 19. How the girl had made it to age 17 was a mystery to him.

Such a mystery that he actually considered dropping the plan right then and there.

The chances of JR surviving with this woman were beyond astronomical. She'd probably get him killed before she could even conceive! Yet…

Despite her unknown bloodlines and unfortunate choice of family, it was that mother of hers that would act as the, shall we say, connection and lead to everything that JR could need or want. She would clearly see Miss Trailer Trash as a form of Lynette, who was, at the age of fifty, still blonde.

_The enemy of you enemy is your friend._

Oh, yes, it would work. Adam knew how his son worked.

JR was a man of emotion. Driven, if you will, by what he craved. And what he craved was familial ties. He drank up stories of Adam and Lottie's childhood adventures like a sponge, that eager glint in the back of his eyes. He seemed more intent on getting Colby back than Adam himself was.

And, despite JR's own best tries, his son continued to gravitate to the Martin family. Hold on to those saps, he could hold on to Dixie.

This latching problem of his had been the reason he'd fought so hard to deny the truth about Babe. But when he'd finally seen her real colors… then he'd been more bloodthirsty than Adam.

_Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me._

If he made a connection with Kincaide, he'd latch himself to her. And, from looking at her history, she'd probably do the same.

Adam tapped his finger of her picture, smiling slightly.

They'd be loyal to each other, a perfect united front against people like Babe and Bianca, people like Tad Martin, that son-of-a-bitch who'd called JR son for two decades and then dropped him like a bad business deal. A perfect match, and, if JR's plan to get back CE worked, they'd build it back up to what it could be.

Adam just hoped the wedding was better than that truly hideous thing that Carey had planned.

Ten hours later, Adam Chandler was dressed in his finest suit, checking his tie one last time, waiting for Winifred to announce his guests had finally gotten there.

But this was needed, and he knew it. He needed a partner in this, someone else that JR trusted. The simple fact was, Palmer Cortlandt was that man. And the older people of Pine Valley had to stick together.

His man informed him that Ms. Kincaide was still at her new place; when she moved, his man would follow.

He glanced again at the clock, feeling an edge of irritation. If Adam Chandler calls an emergency meeting among the seniors of Pine Valley, the seniors should answer.

"Mr. Chandler?"

Jerking to the noise, he found Winifred standing there, looking pleased. "Huh?"

"Your guests are here, Mr. Chandler. The Cortlandts and Mr. Martin."

"Good." With a firm nod, he went and poured a Scotch for Palmer. Martin didn't drink, and Opal would probably prefer a, what do you call it? Oh, yes, a Screaming Orgasm. She'd just have to settle for a gin and tonic.

He was just finishing hers when Palmer entered, in full Cortlandt mode. "What's the meaning of this Chandler?"

"Business," Adam announced brightly. Handing the gin to Opal, the Scotch to palmer and taking his own, he took a seat on his couch, feeling sure of himself again. "We have business to discuss."

"The Devil's ice-skating," Opal announced calmly and Adam shot her a positively lethal look.

"You're only here because I need a woman's opinion, woman. So keep quiet until I ask it of you."

Joe took Opal's split-second of hesitation and leaped into the conversation. "Adam, what are you planning?"

Ah, a real Martin. Direct and honest. Smiling slightly, Adam gave him his full focus. "I want that son of yours out of JR's life."

"Why?"

"That's not your business, Martin."

"Tad loves JR. Nothing I can say will stop that."

Adam took a deep breath, set his Scotch down. Easy boy, don't need another stroke now., not until my plan works. "Tad martin has an intriguing way of showing love, Martin, don't you agree?"

"Jamie loves Babe. They are happy, wherever they are."

A lesser man would have believed Martin's comment. Adam, and Opal and Palmer, were not lesser. Adam knew Joe in some ways that even dear boy Tad didn't. And as far as Joseph martin was concerned, Arabella Carey was the sole reason that his family had been torn apart. Joe Martin hated Babe Carey as lethally as Adam and Palmer.

He just hid it better.

"Lie if you want, Joe, but every person in this room knows each other. You hate that little slut as much as we do. She's the reason you lost both your grandsons, the reason your son has lost the only piece of Dixie he had left, the reason that you and your dear wife are the only Martins who know the meaning of family." Adam smirked quietly at the other man, aware that the Cortlandts were watching, thoroughly enjoying this confrontation.

"My personal feelings for Ms. Carey aside, I will not work to destroy anything that is somehow left between Tad and JR."

So, he didn't want to admit it yet, huh? Fine, he'd go back to blackmail and/or guilt. That always worked well enough.

"The only thing standing between James Martin and thirty years of love with Bubba is my son. My son, who is still clinging to that grandson of yours with the pathetic neediness of a toddler lost in a mall at Christmas. James Martin knowingly stole JR's wife, tried to steal his child, and, for a change of pace, completely destroyed anything that JR had left." He smacked his hand on the table, never breaking Joe's eye contact. "My son learned that his child was dead through a letter, Joe. A goddamn piece of paper that wished him luck!"

"That's not Jamie's—"

"Don't you defend his actions, Joe! You are as disgusted as everybody else in this town!"

"Amen," Opal muttered darkly, while Palmer nodded.

"Yet my son refuses to let me go after them. Do you know why? Because there is too goddamn much Cooney in his veins! They're out breeding more ninnies to destroy America while my son is trying to breathe, because breathing hurts! I have lost a child, Opal has lost a child."

Adam vaguely picked up Opal's furious nods, but continued his tirade. "And I tell you Joe, unless you have lost a child, you cannot possibly imagine what it feels like. There are no words, no chance of understanding that pain. If I had my way, you'd be mourning a son right this minute, mourning a grandson and a wife! Although a better way would be to take you out and leave Tad! Let him walk around town with his heart and soul missing!"

"Don't you threaten my—"

Adam jumped up, beyond livid. That Joe could be… defending… "If you think I will sit back and let my son suffer more at the hands of that excuse for a son of yours, you are sorely mistaken! Before I die, I will go with the knowledge that my son is at peace, happy, for the first time in his life! And if you get in my way, I'll destroy you along with Tad Martin!"

"You leave Tad out of this, Chandler!"

Adam twisted to face Opal, pointing at Joe. "Then tell Martin here to get Tad out of my way! I am going to protect my son from him and I will do it by whatever means possible!"

And then it was over, a sudden stillness settled as Joe and Adam faced each other. And Adam knew that, in every way that mattered, he had won. Even as Joe strode from the mansion, there was the quality in his gaze that Adam knew full well.

Fatherhood.

Joe Martin was on the bandwagon in every way that mattered.

Finally, with a snarl like some caged beast, Adam sat back down, trying to ignore the grin on Palmer's face. The bastard was figuring it out. "Stop looking at me like that, Cortlandt!"

The other man laughed, shook his head and drained his Scotch. "So, what's her name?"

* * *

Finding the address for the Chandler mansion proved easy. She considered calling them instead, but decided against it.

So, at half-past noon, she left her apartment in another suit, black, with a pleated skirt, her black hair pulled into its usual tight ponytail.

All she carried was her beaded handbag, the very same that _The_ _Enemy_ had ripped through the day before.

It took another hour to get the rental car, a small black Nexus, and head for the mansion.

Finally, ready for the triumphant crowing of _The_ _Enemy_, she rapped on the door. She was pathetically thankful for the answer of a maid.

"Um, is Mr. Chandler available to talk?"

"Yes."

Were all maids this monosyllabic? "Can I speak to him?"

"Why?"

Apparently. "Would it be okay if I talked to him?"

Now the maid sighed, opening the door. "Come on in, Ms. Kincaide."

Stepping in, she frowned. "How do you…"

"Mr. Chandler was waiting for a formal apology, Ms. Kincaide. Said you'd be here on your hands and knees." This so stated, the maid took off and Micaela hurried after, her short legs pumping to keep up.

"Did he really say that?"

"Of course Ms. Kincaide." A sharp turn to the left and Micaela half-expected a screech of tires to accompany Speedy's movement. "Unfortunately, he's out right now."

"Er, then where're we going?"

"He instructed that you give the formal apology to his father, Mr. Chandler."

"But you said Mr. Chandler was here, at the door?"

"I meant the senior Mr. Chandler, Ms. Kincaide."

"Oh, of course." Rolling her eyes, Micaela nearly smacked right into Speedy when she suddenly stopped and popped her head into the door.

"Ms. Kincaide is here, Mr. Chandler."

And just like that, Micaela found herself shoved into the office, jumping at the loud slam of the door at her back.

Facing Adam Chandler.

Growing up, she'd heard about many a businessman; but her father reserved a special place in Hell for the man in front of her. So how could she be disappointed?

He was tall, slim, deep gauges in his face testifying to a long life, but the crow's feet and smile lines were probably a fault in business deals. God knows how people had snickered about her during meetings when she offered a smile. In a fine suit, at least eight hundred dollars, he had stood and come around the desk at her introduction.

Now he nodded at the leather couch, studying her intently. "Ms. Kincaide, would you like a drink? Maybe lunch?"

Warning bells went off. "Uh, no, I'll be having lunch with a friend, you know, later."

_Geez, Dad'll be proud of her business speak!_

"Not even a drink, dear?"

"Dear"? Did he know who she was?

Still… "Do you have any Scotch?"

One eyebrow raised and she resisted the urge to smack him. How many times had she gotten a look like that? Just because she had tits and unfortunately was vertically challenged, they all thought she drank nothing but Long Island Ice Tea!

However, he did pour her a glass, handed it over and then took a seat on the couch opposite hers.

"Didn't expect a little thing like you to go for Scotch."

Her annoyance ticked down a level. Interest?

"My height issue is irritating, but I was raised by a Texan. I'm taught to hold my liqueur, Mr. Chandler. Although I do enjoy a gin every so often."

"I'll just have to remember that, won't I?"

Micaela smiled slightly, although still worried a bit. "Mr. Chandler, I came to apologize to… well, Mr. Chandler."

"Just like that?"

The young woman gave him a look. "If it was some other guy, I'd take him to court. Your son, though…"

"What about my son?" he asked curiously, head cocked as he retook his seat behind his desk.

Damn! Nursing the Scotch – very good Scotch by the way – Micaela sighed. "I think that, if the papers are correct, your son has been through enough, Mr. Chandler."

"So this is a pity party then?"

"No! Well, I mean…" She reached up, tugged on her silver hoop earring. "I really don't want to be the straw that broke the camel's back, see. What if I'm the thing that pushes him over the edge?"

"So you give in?"

Months after this conversation, Micaela would remember the _edge_ in Adam Chandler's gaze and it would click. She would get and understand his grand master plan. But today was not that day and Micaela Kincaide had grown up with the greatest cowboy to ever live.

"Mr. Chandler, a Kincaide does not… give in. And believe me when I say that I am a Kincaide." She leaped up, draining her glass before banging it onto his desk. "Please give Mr. Chandler my condolences on his son, but I must leave. I'll set something up with him to pay for the car."

And then, with great effort to melodrama, Micaela Kincaide stomped out of the Chandler mansion.

And for a good half-hour, Adam Chandler could only giggle quietly to himself.

Until Stuart figured out how JR just happened to be visiting Skye when Ms. Kincaide had come by.

"You have to stop this Adam. JR's gonna be so upset."

"I'm his father. Now butt out."

The drawback to being a twin, especially an identical twin, is that it is not easy for one to convince the other that if he is not obeyed, there will be bloodshed and Hell to pay. Especially if they've been together for over sixty years.

Which, both fortunately and unfortunately, was the case with Stuart and Adam Chandler.

"Adam, JR needs to be left alone. Offer a shoulder, offer love but please don't offer a naked Texan who just happens to have wrecked JR's car!"

"Butt out!" Adam snapped, as he searched the files he had on the Kincaide Foundation.

"Adam- "

"Ha!" He scanned the page, his grin growing with every line. Oh God, it was such a beautiful thing to watch a scheme fall into place! Quickly highlighting the three lines, he folded it and slipped it into his pocket. "I have to go now. Good luck on the hydrangeas, Stuart. Hey!"

The last came when his brother grabbed him by the arm and yanked him right back into the room.

"You have to stop this… whatever-it-is! JR is going through so much pain and all you're going to do is add to it!" Stuart grabbed Adam's lapels, shook him savagely. "He needs to grieve, he needs to cry, and he needs to deal with all of this."

"That's the point, damn it!" Shoving his brother away, the businessman adjusted his jacket, grimacing at the hand-shaped wrinkles. "He's grieved his entire life. And I never even gave a damn! Now, I intend to do what I have to do to give him all that he deserves! Even if that means going through _you_!"

"Adam-"

"Good day!"

"Adam-"

"I said 'good-day', Stuart!"

And Stuart chandler was left with a deep sense of foreboding as Adam slunk form the room with all the grace that a snake with two legs can convey.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A Love Story**_

4)

Was it too much to hope for to have at least a meal, maybe? A walk in the park? Maybe, oh, just maybe, the kind of conversation that might take place between a brother and sister?

Skye couldn't even reject him to his face?

"_China?" JR echoed blankly on the front step of the mansion._

"_Uh-huh," the boy answered nervously. _

"_Skye is in…" JR waited in an odd silence, head cocked in interest._

"_China."_

"_Why?" JR asked curiously, nearly choking out the word. _

"_Uh, she wanted, uh, fresh… tea?"_

JR snorted, staring down into the contents of his coffee. His breath misted in front of his face and he wondered, absently, how long it took to freeze to death.

_She probably stood behind the door, feeding Spiky the words. _

The hair hadn't worked with JR; it wouldn't work in the long run for this Squirt.

After running for a coffee, he'd perched himself on the front step of the Quartermaine mansion. Now, two hours later, he finally gave in. Tossing the coffee, cup and all, away, he stood, grunting at the knots and kinks in his legs and back.

Let the bastards clean up that ridiculous excuse for a coffee. Maybe Skye would do it, clean up all evidence of his visit before the masters could learn that her real family had wanted to visit.

Even with the overcoat, he was still chilled to the bone. Shivering slightly, he climbed back into the car, starting it and clicking on the heater.

There, facing the house, he sat and wished for a hose.

Let her come out afterwards, find his dead body, leave her to deal with all this shit.

Jesus, why did this matter anyway; it wasn't like she'd called or visited or given them any indication that she hadn't dropped off the face of the Earth. It was clear now that the call Dad had gotten had been some sick joke. Probably wanted top get JR out of the house so he could search for Colby.

So why the Hell did this feel so goddamn shitty?

_Because you hoped, you stupid jackass. You let yourself believe that just maybe family cared._

Gripping the steering wheel more tightly, JR swallowed, his throat burning as he stared at the windows, where the two shapes moved around. Arguing.

_About whether or not she should give a damn. _

_About me._

With a hiss, JR reached up and rubbed his face savagely, struggling to breathe. His skin tingled, the muscles in his back and neck tightened up even more painfully and reminded him, for the umpteenth time, that he had to see a chiropractor. All those nights sleeping in the nursery, in the rocking chair, had made their mark in his spine.

It was getting steadily worse, made sleeping hard and working harder. It made his head pound to move his neck and his arms had begun a steady ache after more than an hour of typing.

And falling asleep in an office chair, no matter how comfortable, made it even worse.

JR had slept on the floor of his bedroom the night before, not even a pillow.

So why was he refusing to go see somebody?

Well, as Kendall had so calmly put it, falling asleep in agony was better than falling asleep thinking about his son… or daughter… or wife or brother or step-father or…

_Mom_.

One had died in fire, the other in water; she'd been burned to death, her and the baby.

_My baby drowned. _

_His lungs filled with water and his bones broke and he…_ JR shook himself, trying to do away with the image, so perfectly clear. No.

With a surge of anger, he pulled out of the drive, spinning and sending up an explosion of gravel and rock.

_Let the bitch clean it up herself. _

* * *

Amy cancelled their lunch date, something about banging into an old friend. Other people might think she was just being rude; Micaela knew her better. If Amy said that she'd met up with a friend, than she'd met up with a friend. It was physically impossible for Amy to lie.

Since the minute they'd met in Micaela's Child Behavior class, the two had connected. And while Amy worked toward her eventual dream of buying and running a metaphysical shop, Amy worked for Micaela as a secretary.

Unfortunately, the cancellation left Micaela alone in a new town, to fend for herself and find nourishment. Not as easy as it sounds.

They had several different restaurants, a handful of clubs and a business district to end all business districts.

Micaela spent an hour running back and forth, watching for anything that she might accidentally hit before she found a McDonalds. With a large bag in the passenger seat, she fled back to her apartment and fortified herself with enough carbs to survive another day.

Usually, she was a vegetable and fish person but she was desperate.

The rest of the day was spent in a state of vegetation and rest, to prepare for the volley of meetings that hit her tomorrow.

Micaela Victoria Kincaide had no way of knowing that, across town, in a law office, a two-legged snake with strong paternal/maternal instincts was planting a piece of paper that would forever change hers and his son's lives… forever.

If she had, he probably would have ended up dead, killed from death by stiletto.

* * *

Thaddeus James Martin was, to put it quite simply, a Cad. Once upon a time, he'd been a caring, loyal father, a faithful son and a beloved husband who had been lucky enough to find his one woman in the world.

But that was before his one, his match, his other half, had gone off that cliff.

Before his own son had destroyed what could have been a happy marriage and fled with…

Before Paul Cramer, before that crash and that flood and that night in Florida and that Christmas Eve where he'd destroyed anything that was left of Dixie.

Before his family, one he'd fought so hard to have, had crumbled. The more he tried to salvaged it, the more it crumbled. It was like a paper boat, dropped by a little boy into a pool. The more he tried to dry it, save it, the more it tore, shredded, clung to his hands in bits and pieces of white.

Tad had moments that returned to him, stuck to him like the remains of a little paper boat, resurfaced in the middle of night, right before sleep, just before his brain thankfully shut down. But when the brain slowed, the heart grew louder and he was left watching his dreams, watching faces and moments and hearing things that should never have been spoken.

He didn't have children left, not really. Two had never had the chance to get there, had never filled their lungs with air or looked up at the people who loved them.

One was somehow everything that Tad was, everything that had destroyed, again and again, his marriage and his family and his wife. He was the son of the man who had slept with Liza Colby, the one who'd refused to let Dixie have that first little girl. In the end, he'd be the one who lay awake at night, wondering and hoping and wishing and hurting.

And the other… That son wasn't his, not really. Once, it had been so close that Tad could taste it, feel what could have made so much okay. But, in the end, it was gone, swept up and away, leaving ruins where the two had once so desperately tried to defend their little battlement of hope and love and maybe. The two had fought so hard, but the crushing weight was just too much, too hard and they were left, chilled and aching and trying to find home.

That one… he was the one should be with, be sitting in that nursery with, trying to comfort, trying to help, trying to be a father to. But the home they'd shared had driven off that cliff, burned to death, leaving only that little empty village to defend against the outside world.

The outside world had won and while Tad had looked for a new home, the one who wasn't his son had created, tried to create, a new little place. A little place, not much more than a hut, but which would stop the rain and snow and wind and all those things that left you chilled. Yes, the cold would be there, but the hut would keep him from freezing, give him a place to huddle under covers and wait for the storm to pass.

The girl had ripped the door and windows from the hut, let the ice and water in, but, like a loyal little soldier, the son who wasn't a son had stayed, trying to hold the fort, keep it safe.

Tad had destroyed the hut, destroyed what was left, left not even a floor or piping or even a blanket to cling to. All that was left of his little home, his little hut was a patch of bare earth, a patch already rotted through.

And now, the loyal little soldier finally broke. He fled to a cave, fled to the dark and shadows where the harsh light of day, where the truth behind the lies couldn't reach him. He shivered and he chilled and he froze but he stayed, unable to look for a new home, look for a new place to create or try to create.

He huddled and he waited to die, waited to end, waited for an escape that refused to come, waited for the chill to finally finish him, especially since it was so close already, right?

The human brain in the stillness of night is a bitch. It was a bitch that filled Tad's head with these strange allegories and a storybook of memories, all so clear and pristine… he could smell perfume and taste chicken wings and remember the feel of being stuffed on a couch, all but covered by sons and a wife, all asleep.

Tad watched them, didn't try to interrupt them, didn't want to.

The smell of perfume and the taste of pancakes was all that he had left. He just wished for a way to find that cave, find the loyal little soldier and bring him out, where the sunlight could warm him, chase away the chill.

Only problem was, Tad had already created the landslide that buried the little son who wasn't a son in what the son hoped to be a grave. And it had buried him alive.

* * *

Dad was gone when he finally got back so JR decided to save his rant for later.

When he felt like it.

The anger had died away, leaving him cold and hungry and looking for a drink.

He headed upstairs, barely avoiding Stuart, who seemed to be looking for him, and cracked open his new bottle of Scotch, shutting himself in his bedroom.

His work lay scattered across the desk, the sheet from last night remained on the floor, testimony that Winifred had followed his orders to stay out. Took her long enough.

There, sitting up against his head board, he stared at the desk where Babe had once stored her ceramic cow collection. That area sat untouched and he'd shoved Winifred out before she managed to dust it off, leaving him with the impressions of Babe's collection.

But they were filling up, he noted as he swallowed some of his liquor. Soon, there'd just be a layer of dust, nothing to remain from her collection. Shouldn't he be happy about that? Shouldn't he let Winifred clean it, swipe up what was left?

He didn't know, he didn't understand but he remembered how each one had sat, what each had been called. The one in the front, the little glazed one with angel wings and big blue eyes, and a little crown. He'd brought that for her on the one-month anniversary, and she'd called it Olli, but she'd never explained the name and he'd never cared. All that had mattered was the look in her eyes and how her hair had moved when she bounced, squealing happily.

All he had left of Olli was a spot surrounded by dust.

Just like Gigi, a little piggy bank he'd found at a garage sale. Her eyes had been brown, and big and he'd known that they made a cow piggy bank. Shouldn't they call it cow bank, or maybe a moo bank? Really, a piggy bank of a cow was really misleading…

_And Babe was sitting between his legs on the bed, holding Ms. Moo in her denim shorts and a pink tank, her blonde hair in two little braids and explaining how Krystal had found Ms. Moo in an abandoned hotel room. _

_And he could smell that Strawberry shampoo she used, the smell of strawberry milk when she laughed. _

_And her bare feet would twitch whenever she hit a climax of the story, her toes wiggling as she laughed. _

And then JR was given a heart attack when his phone started screeching, like that annoying Ms. Kincaide.

Choking on what had to be drool, he knocked the bottle off the bed before he managed to grab the phone. "Chandler. JR Chandler." Jesus Christ, was that his voice!

"Yeah Mr. Chandler, this is James."

"James."

"Vivianne James?"

"I don't " The name suddenly hit home and he went still, no longer trying to reach for the now nearly empty bottle. James got the sudden silence for what it was.

"Exactly, Mr. Chandler. Exactly. Look, I found something. Something "

"Her? Did you find… did you find her… body?"

"Well, Mr. Chandler…" James sounded hesitant now and JR felt his chest tighten and he sat up even farther, struggling to breathe. "Mr. Chandler… Ms. Cooney's body wasn't… We can't find… Ms. Cooney isn't in this car."

"Then… where is she?"

_

* * *

Somewhere in Switzerland..._

Nanny part-time was something, at least. Lord knew the kids in the hospital needed a peppy person to light up their days. This was her job, the one she loved so much. And the kids knew her, loved her, waited for her when she missed one of her usual days.

But even a herd of hopeful faces didn't still that goddamn ache in her chest, one that wasn't connected to what the doctors called a "weak heart".

She'd thought, after that last dream, the one about falling, about telling Dr. Benson but hesitated to actually find the older woman. Dr. Janine Benson was a wonderful woman and a good friend but she wouldn't hesitate to put her on meds.

And just the thought of more medication, in addition to the kidney and heart meds, made her ill.

So she'd pushed the thoughts, and that smell of cologne, away, to the back of her mind. But her mind wasn't quiet as tight as one of her Tupperware containers, once that she used to store Cady's beloved clay. Jinxie had forced them to find a good container after the third time he ate it.

Not the smartest dog in the world, unfortunately.

The simple fact was, the sleeping pills weren't working very well anymore, allowed flashes and whispers to rise up when she didn't focus on locking them down. Yet, it wasn't the voices or faces that really hurt her. It was the nightmares.

Nightmares of water and fire, of a choking sensation, of a trapped coldness that threatened to drag her under, smashing her on the rocks, skin torn and shredded, her bones breaking as her lungs filled.

She didn't know which was worse, the heat and fire and flame or the terror of being dragged under. Sometimes she woke up too hot and fled to the cold shower, other nights left her digging for every blanket she had.

What was next, death by starvation?

By the time she got home, Gina had put Cady to bed and Jinxie was flopped out by Cady's bed, like some old stuffed animal. Paying Gina, _oh Cady's_ _such a sweet little thing Ms. Cole, except for when she makes a… well, a plan, Ms. Cole_, the young woman left and she was left to check on the two members of her family.

Cady Cole, who was currently hanging half-out of her bed, drool running into her hair, in her beloved dog nightgown.

Jinxie raised his head to glance at her but a quick scratch put him back to sleep, relaxing the self-appointed Superdog.

And then she was alone, to try to stop the whispers and faces and pull of water.

And she sat there, arms wrapped around herself as she sat and shivered, staring at her television blankly.

_I'm losing my mind_, she thought bleakly, dully watching the blurred shapes move in some grotesque dance of meaningless movement_. I'm losing my mind and my sanity and what will Cady be left with?_

She sat and she shivered and she feared for everything she was.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A Love Story:**_

5)

Dixie Cooney hadn't been in the car when it had exploded. James had done the DNA tests twice, just to make sure, before contacting his boss.

JR Chandler had hired James the minute he came into his power as a Chandler, hired James because she was the best.

But after a year, James had begun to get sick of the case. If it wasn't for the amazingly generous check she got every third month, James would have abandoned the case ages ago. They had never even found the car, for God's sake! So James had remained in Switzerland, living in the expansive penthouse Mr. Chandler had brought her, scanning through her files every so often.

James had had no idea, when she got that call from the Swiss police, that she'd be giving this news to his boss.

News that Ms. Cooney had perished, yeah, of course. But news that she might have… No freakin' way had James ever dreamed of this twist.

It was like some soap from home, all shocking twists and dead people not really being dead. Still, if one person on this case gave her one of those weird-ass thoughtful looks while dramatic music began in the background; well, James would kick his ass.

Now, she'd pulled all her old info up, cracked open a new container of coffee and waited for the office to open.

* * *

Adam knew something had hit his son like a Mack truck on an early January morning, especially when JR took a seat on the patio, wearing nearly black glasses and reclining back.JR hated glasses, hated not being able to make eye contact; he was a big believer in the old "eyes are the windows to the soul" bit. Usually he was a good judge through the gaze though… until, once again, Babe ruined it. Yet, his deep gazing hadn't stopped after that, just intensified, as if he hadn't looked hard enough or long enough at Carey, as if he had done it right, he could have avoided a horrible mistake. 

Well, he had of course, but they all had… well, except for Adam. But then, Adam had his own expertise in the "cheap slut" category. Hell, he had his own archive.

JR was an amazing judge of character… unless he let his feelings get in the way.

The elder Chandler didn't have that problem, not usually; see the box marked "Liza Colby" in the back of his archive marked "traitorous bitches" for an adventure of when he didn't follow his instincts. Yet, even when his emotions got in his way, his experience, over sixty years in the making, stepped in and set off warning bells.

JR simply didn't have that experience yet… but he would. Adam could already see it building, see it flexing and experimenting, making an almost painful effort to stop the pain for JR.

Now, on the couch in his black jeans and black shirt, his head leaned back with his dark glasses on, JR had clearly shifted into a state of withdrawal.

It was up to his father to find out what he was so desperately fleeing from. With most people, Adam would plan a sneak attack, but with JR… JR was his son, and every time he looked at him, he saw more of himself. Most of that Chandler-ness was good, was strength, was what would save him from another Babe Carey and another Christmas Eve mourning for two children, one dead, and one stolen.

But what only Stuart, and possibly Brooke, saw and understood was Adam's sadness at the other parts coming in… other parts finally breaking under the strain. It was the price of loving, of letting yourself open up, even a fraction, only to let the proverbial wolves tear you to shreds.

"What happened to that bottle of Scotch I got two months ago?"

"Spilled." His voice was quiet; his face was emotionless, expressionless, empty of anything that could be used against him.

"Son, that was an expensive bottle. What did you do, water the flowers with it?"

JR made a noise, a noise that Adam recognized. It was a sound that always caused a flood of memories from his own childhood, a flood of what memories he had of JR's. Stuart would make it when he was a boy, when he had been unable to deal with the world around them.

JR used to make it as a boy, when Adam and Tad began their tirade… _in_ _front of him, in front of JR_.

Whenever Adam had heard that noise, he'd hate it and flee as quickly as possible. What it meant, what it showed, what it revealed about someone always made Adam's skin crawl, his spine chilled even as he grew angry, a helpless surge of rage that would be gone in the same swirl of cold blood and hot skin as it came, leaving him lethargic, and eager for nourishment and sleep.

Now, at JR's older age, the noise wasn't as high-pitched or helpless; with adulthood, it had deepened and grown rarer, popping up only when JR's mind approached his breaking point. It frightened, yes, frightened, Adam, and he always feared that one day it would herald a lifetime of visits to the nearest mental asylum, trying to convince his son to take his pills before dinner.

Adam hadn't heard it since JR had lost Bess, heard it as he stood outside the room, wishing he could go but knowing there was no help or comfort to be given. Yet, today, it was back, and deeper than ever before, pitched in a way that he had never heard.

Adam felt as if he were stepping out onto a frozen pond, seeing the hairline cracks in the distance but unwilling to leave the danger for safer pastures. Reaching into his private stores of Chandler courage and plain old stubbornness, he took his first cautious steps forward.

"Was it cleaned up?"

JR reached up, scratched his head in a sudden flare of movement that reminded Adam of himself. "I did it myself."

Which meant he had either been in the nursery or his own room. He resisted his own urge to take a seat beside JR, seeing and picking up on how the young man sat, trying to take up all the space on the couch. "What happened?"

"I got spooked."

_By_ _what_! It took all his will not to lunge out and scream the words, shaking his son until he snapped out of this state. But he held back, slipping his hands into his pockets. "What's the matter, the little bitch asked for a cow for a wedding present?"

The seconds ticked by as his son stared stoically at the sky, perhaps trying to blind himself in the sunlight. If he really wanted to, he needed to take off the--

"The car was empty."

Adam would have given anything to _not_ understand, to have his first thought be that they found Carey's car but she had escaped, to not instantly put it together in a single heartbeat.

Except, he knew, as soon as he heard the four words, he knew. Only one empty car would inspire this instant reaction in JR. Not even Carey or the little excuse for a Martin could inspire such a near-breaking point. "When?"

"Last night. I got the call last night, from my girl over there."

The cracks were beginning to grow, spread but he was halfway across the pond, no, the lake, he saw with a sudden clarity. He was on a lake, trying to walk across, get to that side, the side he could just barely see, a stretch of oddly flat white.

"The woman you sent over, James, Vivianne James, right?"

One single nod as he dropped his head, flexing his fingers, as he hung his head forward, his shoulders and back following the movement until he sat stooped forward.

"JR… that doesn't mean anything, you know that. How do they even know she was in the—"

"Her water broke in the seat. They've got the DNA evidence. She did it twice." He reached up, slipped off the glasses but didn't straighten. "Of course, we all know how truly wonderful DNA can be. What does it matter if the results come out and destroy everything, right? As long as you get what you want, right?"

When he raised his head, met Adam's gaze squarely, his father didn't react, just gazed back, careful, recognizing that look for what it was. It was the look of a man who was clinging to the other bank, wanting to head across but unwilling to, seeing those growing cracking spread before him.

"Doesn't mean she survived, right?" Still, his gaze never faltered, stayed still. "She could have thrown herself out, killed herself in her attempt to survive. Maybe she dragged herself out, died, was eaten by maggots and carrion birds and other things that take people away from us. Hell, maybe she drowned, huh?" With a sudden noise of vulgar humor, he fell back, letting out a burst of laughter and gesturing vaguely with both arms. "Swept up by a river, her bones were broken, her lungs filled…"

He raised his head just enough to meet Adam's gaze, grinning, chuckling quietly. "What do you think, do you think Kate's lungs filled with water, too? Oh! I have a better idea, Dad! She gave birth, but in mid-rescue, the chopper went down! But instead of dying on impact, they were swept up in the sudden flash flood! Because see, the car didn't burst into flames! It burned, steadily, for hours, but they have just enough DNA to somehow tell us that instead of dying quick, when the car hit, she probably dragged herself out, survived just long enough to "

"JR."

The quiet strength there finally stilled JR's grisly story-telling. But it had achieved its purpose, done its deed. The images, feelings, smells lingered in the air, filled the mind like river water. Adam stood there, breathing quietly, searching for anything to solve this, to give JR something other than this.

"That isn't the only answer to that test."

"Only answer to the other one."

Adam felt his own pain, pain he remembered from losing that other child, so long ago, flare up. He grasped desperately at the ice as it cracked farther, crawling forward, all focus on getting to the other bank, to where the other man waited, not brave enough to go.

"Martin survived a fall into a river."

"He wasn't pregnant, he wasn't missing a kidney, he didn't have heart problems, he hadn't been betrayed "

"JR… Dixie is the strongest woman I know."

He shook his head, letting out another bitter sound of laughter. "Not that strong."

Adam moved forward, took careful seat beside his son, continuing his moves across the lake. The opposite bank was clear, and he could see the other man waiting. "The DNA doesn't mean that she went into labor from the crash."

"It's not "

"What if she went over that cliff _because_ of a sudden contraction? What if… what if, she was somehow able to throw herself out of the car JR? What if she gave birth out there?"

"She wouldn't just leave me! You know that! She wouldn't just _not_ come back!"

"Dixie Cooney wouldn't… but what about somebody else?"

A moment of silence beside him before… "That's ridiculous."

"Martin didn't survive… Ted did."

JR shook his head, stood in a sudden movement of frustration. "Come on! Nothing would keep her away from me!"

"Except that… You know I'm right. You wouldn't be so upset if you didn't." He could see the bank, increased the speed of his movement, refusing to listen to the cracking and splintering and grinding behind him. No turning back now.

"The chances of that…"

"That's the point, JR. There _is_ a chance, right?"

Blue eyes, her blue eyes, met his, held them. "Yes."

"Then take it!"

There was silence around them, the normal sounds having bled away until only the two men were there, two men, a father and a son. Beneath him, the lake rose up, began to shift, finally and he began to run, legs pumping.

And then, his son went inside, pulling out his cell phone as he moved, disappearing in a flutter of curtains.

And he reached the opposite bank, flinging himself down and locking himself around the other man, anchoring both himself and the other man, putting down a kind of base where there had been nothing but an empty hollow.

And, in the cave, the first spot of sunlight filtered in, striking the broken but loyal little soldier… showing him the path to a new little leader.

And Adam Chandler pulled out his cell phone and dialed up the secretary for Kincaide Incorporated.

* * *

When Nancy called up Micaela with the new benefactor ready for a meeting, the young woman nearly had a stroke.

Ms. Montgomery had cancelled their meeting, had said something about a more important meeting. Micaela had seethed for a good hour before Nancy, who lived in Texas, called her up.

But what really shocked her was that it was Adam Chandler who wanted to help her get it a headquarters and a good name. After the day before, Micaela had personally been waiting for the sky to open and swallow her up. Yet, despite her shock, she waited only ten minutes before telling Nancy to say okay.

Adam Chandler no longer had control Chandler Enterprises, that little piece of shit, Maxine Malone, little showgirl bitch, now had it. Yet, Adam Chandler was a true business man; how he'd remained in relative control of it even through the upheaval was proof of that.

Pa had begged her to let him help, he could have built it up in a matter of months. But, adoptive or not, she had his stubborn streak and had denied the help, insisting on at least _seeing_ what she could do if left to her own devices. Call it Southern pride if you will, but either way, half the fun was in getting there.

So, yes, yes to any help he could offer.

Yet, she never expected him to ask to come to her place.

Micaela spent a half-hour shoving boxes and junk out of the loft, into closets, behind the sofa, anywhere before running to slip out of her fluffy pink bathrobe and into the first good-looking thing she could find, a cream colored dress that laced up the back, and fell just past her knees.

She just hoped to God he didn't get the wrong impression.

Although, considering his romantic past, he could probably take the award for most young wives at his age, what, ninety? Hell, she didn't even know his age, but then, neither did most people.

She dug out two glasses, a bottle of her own beloved tequila and had just put them down when he knocked.

The two minutes he spent surveying her place were jarring, but he finally took a seat, nodding to himself. He took the drink she offered, leaned back and left her to scan through the files.

After she was half-way through the first page, she put her drink aside, wondering if someone had slipped something into it. This couldn't be possible.

"Something the matter, Ms. Kincaide?"

Micaela glanced up, squirming, smiling tightly. "Mr. Chandler, could you have, um, made a mistake? Here, this, right here?"

"That? Oh, no, I did those documents myself, my dear."

"But this is very… generous?"

His drink sat barely sipped when he sat forward. "Ms. Kincaide, I have waited to find an organization like yours for a long time. I will not risk the chance of you running off, God forbid, to Buchanan Enterprises, perhaps?"

She flushed quickly and ducked her head, clearing her throat. Did he go through her business records? "How did you know about that?"

"I make it my business to know."

Staring at him, she wondered if this was what Eve had seen when she saw that apple. Then she smiled helplessly to herself, clearly hearing Amy's voice in her head, ranting about how the story of the biblical fall was just a sick plan of the early churches to demonize women. She didn't know if it was true, she couldn't, but Amy's rants were always adorable to watch. And Adam Chandler's look when he offered the pen made her feel like a female Faust.

Yet, she reached out and took the pen, smiling slightly to herself. Leaning down, she began to sign, even as she denied the odd something in the papers, something she couldn't put a finger on.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A Love Story:**_

6)

He couldn't take Aidan today, he just couldn't. The Brit was an okay guy, but he just couldn't handle his unending yapping in the background.

Tad Martin needed quiet; he needed a silence that he could breathe in. Unfortunately, none of the places he searched for were quiet, had any kind of silence.

Pop said he was busy, so did Mom. Edmund and Maria were at one of their marriage counseling sessions and Jack was working on something with Livia.

But he didn't understand how he happened to find his one-time stepson, standing in front of the law offices of Livia Frye, talking with Kendall, who was… Holy Hell, was that a diamond or a piece of rock salt? Even on the other side of the street, Tad could see it, a mound of diamonds, a gold band.

She was in what looked like a hazy green dress, her knee-length coat open as she chatted it up with her best friend.

Now, foresight is 20/20, almost always, but as soon as they realized what he was thinking, Tad's warning bells started going off like the were hooked on _Red Bull_. And this time, for the first time since Babe had come to town, he listened.

Tad Martin listened to the warning and stood and watched.

He couldn't hear the words, but… he didn't need to.

They talked and every so often Kendall would reach out and touch JR's arm or shoulder, nod her head. One second they'd be laughing and examining the ring, the next, they'd move closer and seem to shift into a kind of comforting stance.

It should be about Bess/Miranda, about all the Hell, about that little boy. Except… All of Tad's instincts told him it wasn't, it was something else, something that made the hair on his arms lift. Yet, he didn't go across, didn't interfere, sensing on some level that he didn't _want_ to hear.

And, then, she embraced him, they held each other for nearly a minute before she turned and flounced away in a flash of brown curl and perfect fashion.

And then JR saw him.

It was like some old Western, the stare-off across the street, but the thought didn't humor Tad; he was too busy trying to figure out that _look_ in his son's eyes.

JR had been good at hiding his emotions as a child, had been gifted. These days, there was nothing there to indicate anything. The fact that Kendall Hart could so easily embrace him, talk so easily with him, right in the middle of Pine Valley, unnerved Tad in a way that he couldn't quite explain. Later, when he was on the flight, trying to figure out a way to figure it out, Tad would realize that the thing he'd felt when he saw the two of them together had been nothing so much as burning jealousy.

It didn't matter that Tad had lost that understanding somewhere after his son went after Babe, when he made Babe a new Dixie. The point was, he'd lost the right to chat, to embrace him, a long time ago.

Tad Martin was in a state of emotional upheaval that had pretty much started building the day that she had gone off that cliff; since that day, it had been building, steadily, until he could hear it pounding against the walls of that village that he had tried so hard to protect.

When the walls had come down in the face of that fury, in the aftermath of two nights, they had been destroyed, no evidence of them left. JR had fled but he had stayed, like an idiot, trying to find any evidence of another way.

Now, they watched each other and for the first time since he'd held JR as a baby, he couldn't see JR. No matter how much he searched, there was nothing in JR's fathomless eyes, Dixie's eyes, that he could understand, read, see at all. Anything that was there was gone, washed away in that breakdown.

The sick epiphany was like a blow from the executioner's ax. When he'd put his head on the block, he'd known that it was coming, that this was the only possible outcome. But at the last second, as he'd heard the whistle of air, the first real understanding was there. And, like the unfortunate victim of a beheading in that final second, Tad had _only_ a second for it to sink in, to strip away the effects of his own deception of the truth.

It was a single heartbeat, a single second.

And then JR threw away his coffee and was in his car, backing out and leaving Tad to wait in the winter cold, staring after him, cowering as the ax fell.

And then Tad Martin gave himself a mission.

A mission he would regret when both of his girls would move out months later.

* * *

Micaela had offered to stay, to help with Amy's friend, but the pagan wouldn't let her.

So, on the morning of January eleventh, Micaela Kincaide was climbing into the Chandler jet, pushing her thoughts of Amy and Pa from her mind, preparing to be dropped off at Switzerland to meet up with the owner of the Blue Note, Fox Crane, who apparently was one of Adam Chandler's favorite people.

She had no way of knowing that at that very moment, a livid redhead was learning about Adam's nasty little scheme from his loyal twin brother.

That somewhere in Llanview, a widow was mourning her husband's death.

That her future was sitting in the hands of those who had come before her, especially a rather devious matriarch of the Chandler family.

If she had, she might have done things differently; if she had known about _that_ secret, she'd have tracked down the greedy little bitch herself, made her pay the way Lynette never had.

Unfortunately, foresight is 20/20.

Now, she pushed her shoulder-length black hair back, running her fingers through it. Her silver and emerald ring, a gift from her father for her eighteenth birthday, flared with the movement, flashing the morning light.

In her dusty green pleated skirt and jacket, she was in a good mood.

Until she heard the voice of _The_ _Enemy_ from before her, acting as a kind of last warning to run while she could.

"Please tell me you're not the business partner."

Micaela stared at him, working desperately to keep her face empty. There he was, JR Chandler, in a flawless suit, slouched down in his seat, and she thought helplessly of a five-year old just told that Christmas was cancelled.

"I don't know if that was a question or a comment, JR."

Blue eyes narrowed in annoyed warning, and if there wasn't that disturbing glint of intelligence beneath the gaze, she would have laughed at the image he presented. "Mr. Chandler. Now get off."

"I have business to conduct."

"Conduct it elsewhere, then, Kincaide."

Micaela knew, on some level, that she shouldn't be walking around a homicidal bull in a red Prada… but the way he looked at her, all but huffing in his childlike fury was too baiting for a Texan. "Oh, you can call me Micaela, Mr. Chandler."

_So this is what it must be like to have children_, she realized with a smile at his reaction. His eyes chilled, froze over into a haze of blue, his jaw tightened down and he looked at her the way a cat must look at a mouse.

"Look at that, you hate that, don't you?" She set her black leather bag on her seat, studied him intently. "So is it the thought of somebody disobeying you or the thought of someone caring that you hate so much?"

"The only thing I hate is you."

"Nice one." Micaela was somehow fascinated by him, and couldn't understand it. So she didn't try to understand it, at least not now. "I'm just going on this plane, Mr. Chandler. Don't worry about me attaching myself to you."

She snorted as she sat, rolling her shoulders. "Wouldn't want to."

* * *

It was easy enough to get into the flight and it was left to him to hide.

Tad found himself a kind of closet, hunkered down and praying to the Chiropractic Gods that he would be able to walk again. He may be the human embodiment of Adonis but he simply wasn't as young as he used to be. Sure, he'd never had problems enjoying sex, especially with Dixie, but then, she could make anyone feel young, couldn't she?

He listened to the two bicker, rolling his eyes, but never lost his mission. He was here to find out what JR was hiding… and why he was heading to Switzerland, of all places.

He'd never forget his shock at learning that the younger Chandler was heading there. It had felt like someone had nailed him in the chest with a sledge hammer, destroying any chance of using his lungs again. This wasn't a business trip, Tad was sure of that. Later on, he'd have yet another revelation that he hadn't thought it was Dixie-related because he refused to connect JR and Dixie.

So, in the remains of his mind, he connected JR's business trip with Jamie and Babe. Why he was going to Switzerland to torment Babe and Jamie did not matter to the remaining shreds of Tad Martin. All that mattered, at least to him, was that JR _had_ to be after something… after his son.

These thoughts would be yet another blow when everything came out, another weight on his conscience, another blow to his soul.

But today, on the flight to Switzerland, all that mattered to Tad Martin was what he thought he knew.

Sadly, he'd see, when his house was empty and he spent Christmas alone, visiting just to drop off presents, only that one daughter coming to see him and coming to spend a few hours to comfort him, that he hadn't _known_ anything. Not where lies were concerned, lies and betrayal and hurt and regrets for all those heartbeats that he could have fixed. A single sentence to change a life.

The point is not that he made the mistake.

The point is, he didn't fix it.

* * *

Kendall Hart swept up into Zach Slater's apartment like a flash hurricane, swirling in like a breath of Artic wind.

Watching her take full and complete control of his guest, Fred Newman, age 45, balding but charming, would have made a lesser man laugh his head off, probably giggle like a twit. But Zach Slater was not such a laughing, giggling man. He was a man who sat at his desk and watched her.

Flawlessly, she folded her coat over an empty chair, draping herself, in a perfect dress, in said chair. Crossing her legs, she set her hands on her folded knee, making sure to put her bejeweled beauty atop. Only a Kane could make such an entrance without a single word, and leave poor Fred Newman trying to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Fred had almost succeeded when she offered the older man a dazzling smile… another Kane patent. Well, there went any hope of him regaining his wits. When Zach cleared his throat, Fred's head snapped to his boss like a hyperactive Chihuahua, staring at him with blue bug-eyes.

"Mr. Newman, could you perhaps…"

Fred nodded furiously, fumbling for his jacket as he stood. He fled from the room without a second glance to Zach… or the grinning Kane.

Silence filled the room, settled around them like a warm breeze, not awkward, but cautious. Finally, meeting her eyes cleanly, "Don't do that again, Kendall."

Hart grinned like a cat, and she must have subconsciously been trying for that effect; he watched in hidden amusement as her long, graceful fingers flexed, once, then twice, causing light to flash off her "precious".

He didn't get the joke, why she'd said it in that voice, but planned to ask her when she wasn't expecting it.

"Come on, a girl's gotta have some fun."

He tapped his pen on his coffee table twice before setting it down, trying to will her with his gaze. "You can have fun when you get my casinos back… and your little, what do you call it, Fusion?"

It was the wrong way to will her, but the right way to piss her off. Making a noise like an angry cat, he half-expected her curls to fluff up and for her to hiss, she kept the smile on her face… but it changed. It chilled froze over, becoming edged and dangerous.

Zach had seen her just a few hours before his "proposal", coming home after Maxie had delivered the news that she was shutting down Fusion, effective immediately. From what he understood, Maxie had waltzed right in, just after Mrs. Lavery had gone flying out, and calmly informed them that as soon as possible, she intended to dismantle it.

"We made this deal for a reason, Slater, now, when are we gonna tie the knot?"

He couldn't fight this smile. He'd first come up with the idea after his dear daughter had oh so casually shredded his gaming licenses. But he'd hesitated, not sure what to tempt _her_ with. Until he heard about her beloved cosmetics company, and had found her Achilles heel, and had moved in.

Zach hadn't been surprised in the least when she'd banged on his door at three in the morning, six hours after she chased him out of her place with a _very_ expensive bottle of bourbon, telling him to find a "Padre".

Was Bianca still supporting little Maxie after she learned that she had stolen Hart's, well, heart and soul? Considering how she was treating Junior, without a doubt. Zach had been in Kendall's apartment when sister Kane learned the plan; he'd never put into words how surprised he was at her instant attack of both the plan and of her own sister when Kendall brought up something about a hospital visit, Miranda and Junior himself.

Zach Slater, Alexander Cambias, knew the feel of a family battle. And the way that Kendall had looked… Zach knew the look that the older woman had given her sister as she stood, holding the door, staring at Bianca. No words had been needed, and Bianca had stomped out like a exceptionally tall three-year old, even down to the dirty look and crossed arms.

If it was just a fight about him, he would have aborted the plan right then, but he was no idiot. That fight had been about her actions in handling Junior… who, apparently, had been refused the right to visit her. Bianca, for some reason that neither Zach nor Kendall could decipher, had decided that anyone who supported Junior was completely and totally in the wrong. Except, still, it was more.

It was that mysterious "more" that had caused Kane and Cambias to sit on the couch and have an actual, honest-to-God, conversation. And, in the end, they both reached the same decision in a matter of minutes.

Bianca Montgomery, daughter of Erica Kane and Travis Montgomery, was hiding something… and it was something that, in just the week since what Kendall called the "hospital rejection" happened, was beginning to give to her soul-rot.

But right now, Zach's concern was on his daughter, Maxine "Maxie" Malone, now Cambias, who was, like Bianca herself, rotting through in just the week since she'd gained the reins from Lavery. If this plan worked, he could send her back to Las Vegas, to her job as a showgirl. She would hate him, for taking what was "rightfully" hers, but, in the end, she'd still be Maxie Malone, showgirl to the stars.

Standing, Zach took the papers she offered, daggers shooting from her eyes, and studied the signatures. The biggest blow-up between Bianca and Hart had been over this. But Ms. Montgomery had found, to her dismay, that her sister could not be bullied into hating a dear friend. "Did you get all of them?"

Kendall sighed, clearly making an effort to drop her seething, and again flexed her fingers. "I'm walking around, trying to get through to him by phone, and all of a sudden, there he is, ordering coffee."

"He can't make his own?"

"He's going…" For the first time, she hesitated and he resisted the urge to study her face, instead keeping his focus on the papers. "He's heading out of town, his plane's probably already taken off… business."

Another hesitation before she continued, putting more steel into her voice. "We talked, and he thought it was a great plan, especially since Adam found out, _this morning_, that Maxine's dismantling it."

"What?"

"Yep. Gee, I wonder why."

Zach didn't need her to continue. He had no doubt that she suspected that Bianca had decided to take her attack on Junior to the next level… the business one. But, yet again, she would find herself thwarted by her own sister, who would, once again, step in to act as Junior's personal knight in shining armor.

"So you, what, called up his personal lawyer."

"No, today was like fate. He had parked in front of Livia's. How great is that? I mean, how can you deny that the cosmos supports us now?"

Pleased, he set the papers carefully down, studied her intently. "And you're sure he won't double-deal us?"

"I'd bet my life on it. See, he'd chop you into bits and pieces and feed you to kitties for a dime, but me? No, see, JR's very into loyalty. He's into trust, loyalty, all those other things that never work in the real world." She waved her ringed hand absently, playfully dismissing what had so captured his interest. "You don't have to worry about him. My mom, my sister, my uncle Jack? Huh, prepare to die, but him? Adam and I have stuck by him while everybody else left him to rot like old fruit. We have ourselves a perfect accomplice."

Zach Slater, studying the papers that would, upon Zach's reclaiming of the Cambias fortune, would give Chandler Enterprises, and all connected companies, back into Junior's hands, sure as Hell hoped so. The last thing he needed was a Chandler down his throat, wanting his head.

Yet, at the same time he wasn't actually _afraid_. Kendall Hart didn't run around making herself vulnerable to people every day and he doubted she'd start today.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A Love Story**_

7)

In hindsight, Adam would realize that his son would have found Micaela whether or not he stepped in. JR's reaction to their first meeting was evidence to that, as far as he was concerned. But his son, injured and wounded, would have moved far too slowly, hesitated and that, simply, was acceptable.

And so, two hours after his son had left for Switzerland, he received a visit from Kendall Hart and received news from _her_ that would leave him giggling after she left.

Giggling like a twit as he sat in the living room and considered the last three days. No way could any one person set up such a thing, no one, except for…

He kept a picture of his sister on his desk, old-fashioned but beautiful, nearly as beautiful as she was. JR got some of her looks and it always seemed to Adam that his son bore strong features of both Cooney and Lottie, leaving Adam pleased to see something of both women on this world. Although, if Vivianne James was right…

Moving past those thoughts forcefully, Adam, still grinning ridiculously, studied it. Even without Dixie up there, with her to help, Charlotte Chandler could have set this up, laid out this oh-so-perfect grid work for his own plans. Before the light had left her eyes and her smile had faded, she'd had the ability to scheme with the best of them, had taught Adam the unspoken rules of planning.

Unfortunately, she'd never quite taught him the trick to keep from getting caught.

"I was right, wasn't I? You set this up."

The picture didn't answer, but then, it didn't have to. He knew, had felt it in his bones, had felt it in that place in his heart where she had been so long ago, as soon as he learned about the car crash. Now, now that everything had fallen into place, he grinned down at her picture. "Still, why did you wait so long? We could have used this help a long time ago, as soon as that woman came into this house. What, were you busy planning balls up there?"

Once again, she didn't need to answer. After all, what could she have done? Nothing, pure and simple. But now, now that she could act, she was… in a very big way.

"Did you have another stroke?"

Adam gave Palmer Cortlandt a look that could have bent steel, burned flesh. Sadly, it didn't work on other old bastards. "Can't you for once in your life knock?"

Laughing, Cortlandt strode in, taking a seat and pouring himself a drink. "You said something about it working? It couldn't yet, it's too soon. So, back to my first question, did you have another stroke?"

"No, you old coot, believe me, if I died, I'd take you with me, I'd find a way. And don't spill that Scotch." Rolling his eyes at Cortlandt's annoyed mutterings, Adam lifted the paper, the oh-so-precious piece of the puzzle and headed over, resisting yet more giggles. "Look at this. Think as a business man, not that you're a good one, and see what you think."

Adam got the desired reaction… until he reminded him to pull out his business man side. And then, Cortlandt's eyes widened, his mouth opened, then closed. "You son of a bitch… how did you… Is this a joke? If this is just your way of trying to give me a heart attack, so help me God…"

"Ah, if I wanted to kill you, I'd steal something from Hayward. This? Well, this, my friend, is the path to everything that JR could ever want and need."

"And deserve."

"Exactly! He may come after us--"

"Wait? 'Us'?"

"And kill us with supreme cruelty--"

"What do you mean kill!"

"But, even if we go, we will achieve this goal--"

"This isn't soccer, Chandler!"

"And do what we have to do, as both father and uncle, respectively--"

"So now your activating your paternal instincts!"

"And give JR what he so desperately deserves! A real wife--"

"Come now, are wives really all that useful? All the trouble Daisy put me through!"

"And, besides, he's a man, he has needs--"

"Adam!"

The Chandler paused, blinked rapidly, and looked down. Perhaps he _was_ getting a bit excited. It seemed that at some point between the 'kill' comment and the 'needs' comment, he'd stepped up onto his coffee table, using it as a make-shift podium. Clearing his throat, and trying to ignore Cortlandt's hysterical laughter, he stepped down, rolling his eyes again at the other man.

"Well, I think you get my--"

This time, he realized when he was interrupted, scowling at the phone as he strode and snatched it up, barking into it an angry, "What do you want!"

It was very distressing news, which Palmer could tell by the way Chandler's face changed rapidly from a furious red to a horrified white to a positively lethal red again. When he yelled, "You're fired!" and slammed down the phone, Palmer was wiping the tears from his eyes, recovering from his giggle fit.

"What's the matter, Adam? Your podium not fixed yet?" With this, he laughed again… until Adam spoke, quiet and lethal and clearly ready to commit murder.

"Tad Martin is on the plane."

"What plane?"

Adam gave him an odd look, then shook himself, adjusting his tie. "On the plane that JR and Ms. Kincaide are on."

"No."

"Yes… If you'll excuse me, I must go fix this… mistake."

He was halfway to the door when Palmer called out.

"Adam? Just be quick and push him out of the plane, would you?"

The two men, united on the front of, respectively, their son and nephew, exchanged smiles, the kind of smiles that made young business upstarts quiver and run to hide beneath their beds with their teddies and blankets. It was a smile that JR had inherited from both, a smile that Dixie had dealt with all of her maternal power, a smile that Colby had learned at age two, giving it Winifred when the woman had told her that the cookies were burnt.

And with that final exchange, Adam Chandler left to push a mistake out of a plane.

* * *

Right before the plane landed, Micaela closed her laptop, pulling on her dark glasses, mostly in an attempt to keep Chandler from seeing the large bags under her eyes. Usually, she slept during her plane rides, but the thought of leaving herself open to attack left her queasy.

What if he tattooed 'Bad Driver' on her forehead? Knowing him, at least over the last half-week, had left her with a bad taste in her mouth. Cautiously, she glanced over, her eyes sharp behind her glasses, studying him intensely.

He was the picture of perfection, all perfect body, strong features, great eyes… _Whoa cowgirl, what are you doing?_

Micaela had no idea where that had come from, and it irritated her violently, leaving her seething, all but hissing and spitting. Setting the laptop to the side, she smoothed her short skirt, crossing her legs. Brushing her black hair from her eyes, she hooked the strands behind her ears, squirming.

Stupid Chandler… stupid brand-new car. Pa had ranted for a good hour over the phone, muttering darkly about her "goddamn, sonabitch, driving skills". Buck Kincaide was the sweetest man in the world, the best father to ever walk the Earth as far as she was concerned, but he always _hated_ dealing with her driving record.

To be fair, said driving record was as long as he was tall, but, still, she wasn't _that_ bad.

Scowling, Micaela tapped her fingers along the armrest, staring out the window as they finally began their descent. The file that housed her "job" sat at her side, perfect instructions. Instructions she was all too happy to follow.

Check out the spa Adam had built in the resort he'd built several years before, after her meeting to have the papers for the club signed over.

Hey, she was always up for a spa trip, honey. Especially a free one, after all the stress of her last week.

Again, she glanced at The Enemy, narrowing her eyes in quiet fury. He was leaning back, eyes closed, clearly trying to clear his head. And, just as clearly, it wasn't working. At least to judge by the frowning, and the deep gouges in his face. Amy would have a field day with him. He was clearly in pain… back pain.

Ah, did Buck Kincaide understand back pain. Micaela had learned, the hard way, to let go of stress, but Buck was not so fortunate; he had the bad habit of internalizing his anger and stress… except for when it came to his little girl's driving records.

Noting his clear back pain, could it be any clearer here, people, she turned her attention from Chandler, turning her attention to the growing ground.

* * *

Bianca Montgomery was in a bad place. And, as hard as she tried, she couldn't find herself.

To be honest, and she wasn't, it came back, all of it, to Arabella Carey, the woman who had started this in the first place. The simple fact was, Bianca Montgomery did not deal with betrayal well, never had, never would; just ask her dolls, at least the ones that survived the fire.

Part of her could see what she was doing, was revolted, and tried to protest however she could. But the rest…

Now, she sat on her couch and stared at her ceiling, listening to the quiet tick of the clock. She should be going to pick up Miranda, but the thought of touching her daughter, like this… A psychologist would have said she was denying her betrayal, pinning her feelings on a scape-goat to keep all that hurt and pain at bay.

Unfortunately, she refused to go to a psychologist. She'd regret the decision until the day she died; even after she was forgiven, her guilt would remain, always there, always causing her to lose sleep. But today, in her place, all she felt was desperation.

_You're becoming something hateful, Bianca, don't do this. You can still change this, just go over, tell him, explain these things. Explain to Kendall; take that hurt off her face, don't betray her like this. She's still recovering from the last blows, don't give her more. She'll be angry, she'll be hurt, she'll hate you even, but she'll forgive you. You know it. Just… don't become like this._

Bianca Montgomery didn't listen.

She sat on her couch, in the silence, and didn't listen. She didn't head over to tell Adam that his grandson, JR's son, was out there; she didn't stop her attack on who was, essentially, an innocent man; she didn't apologize to her sister; she didn't step up to the plate to be the one that could have saved three years of grief and hurt, spattered with happy moments that faded in the harsh pain like a rose in winter.

And, in some ways most importantly, she didn't step forward to help the woman she loved when it mattered most.

And that, she would later see, was the biggest mistake of all.

* * *

"So, are you ready for this?"

Kendall, in a pair of sunglasses so big she probably could have skied on them, turned her head to stare at him, though he wasn't sure of it. "I'm here, ain't I, Sweetie Pie Honey Bunch?"

Zach grimaced, shaking his head at her mocking in quiet irritation… and bad grammar. Increasing the speed on his Range Rover, he smoothly swept up and onto the highway, heading straight for his airport. This would get Maxie pissed enough to make a mistake in the suit.

Although he'd lost his casinos, he'd put something into place the minute he learned that Bianca had allowed a DNA test; the system wouldn't last long, not even with Edie at the wheel, but it would last long enough to do what he planned.

"I'm going to get a good seat aren't I?"

"What?"

A very dramatic sigh, a twitch of her legs, "Oh wise fiancé… a plane seat, you idiot!"

He carefully guided himself past a herd of nine-to-fivers, all in the same kind of car, little and useless. "Well, seeing as how we're engaged, I suppose it's the least I could do."

"The 'least' you could do?" Oh, the sarcasm in that lovely, gentle, oh-so-feminine voice. "Please, don't rush to hold open my door, buddy."

"How about 'snookums'?"

"What?"

"Why don't you call me snookums? Or, how about, for a change of pace, 'sugar britches'?"

Even though he knew it was coming, he still had to fight laughter at her involuntary shudder. God, how long had it been since he'd had a real verbal judo partner? "Did you tell mama Kane you marital prospects?"

"How is that your business?"

"Well, my spanky-buns, in just a few hours, she'll be my mama Kane."

He sensed, didn't see, the lethal look she gave him… and also sensed the humor she was involuntarily giving off. Kendall shifted, made a noise half-way between a sigh and a laugh. "Trust me, buddy, you won't last long, not at all. You may be able to beat my perfect ass in poker, but she'll… Hey, did you ever hear of when my mother stabbed someone?"

"Well, you did accuse him of rape."

"How did… You son of a bitch."

"Son of a bastard, actually."

A odd, misplaced silence, then, "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Do you?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"One that wants an answer, my little poodle."

"I hate poodles. And those little dogs that Paris Hilton keeps. You know what? I hate all toy dogs in general."

"Chihuahuas."

"What?"

"The type of dog that Hilton keeps? They're called Chihuahuas, and hers is called Tinkerbell."

"This is kind of fun."

He looked over, grinned slightly. "Well, we agree on that. And, boy, if all of those things are like hers… It takes forever for the bites to heal over."

"You don't know them, you twit."

He smiled, waited, almost able to count it down before… "So, what's _Paris_ like?"

* * *

Stuart Chandler wasn't very good at plots. He was too good a person to be able to create evil schemes. Marian and Adam said the same thing all the time.

"You're cute and adorable, but leave the planning to me, my little cinnamon-bun."

Okay, well, only Marian added the cinnamon-bun thing at the end.

Nobody knew the tunnels of the Chandler mansion like Stuart, absolutely no one. So it was easy enough to wait behind a wall and listen to Adam and Palmer bicker… and apparently plan against JR's back. Stuart was determined to stop whatever plan it was. As much as both Palmer and Adam loved JR, they just weren't all that good at the whole "trust in their children" part of parenting.

The only problem was that Stuart had no idea what the plan _was_. This meant, he was useless when it came to stopping it. So he sat, nibbled one of his pot pies and waited for the two to leave. He also sent Tad a prayer when he heard that he was trouble… and apparently going to be thrown from the plane.

Finally, though, after Palmer had gone to rant at Opal about Tad, he snuck out, ran to the bathroom then got down to business.

The plan was so cunning, so devious, so overwhelmingly evil that he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing when he finally found it.

"Oh, boy."

Horrified, Stuart scanned it, printed it, put back the Evil Chandler Plan and then left the house to go discuss the ECP (_Evil_ _Chandler Plan_) with his wife. After all, she was right.

He may be a cute and adorable cinnamon-bun, but he just wasn't very devious… funny how he'd married a female Adam.

Collette nodded for the fiftieth time, typing at her computer. "Mr. Chandler, I understand, the rooms will be ordered as you, well, order. Um… are you sure you want us to do that to the room?"

"Yes!"

Flinching, Collette gave Oscar a nod, and he made a depressed noise.

"But not tonight… right… tomorrow night… at when… yes, sir, I know you already said… I just want to make sure… No, I did not escape from some asylum… No, I wasn't released… yes, I know you can put me out on the street… yes, sir… no… don't be ridiculous…"

Raising her head to roll her eyes, she met Oscar's gaze, who grinned.

"No, I'm not rolling my… what, how did you… yes, I am wearing gold…" Collette's ramble trailed off, watching as Adam Chandler, the BOSS _(Big Old Sinister Superior)_, strode across the lobby of the hotel. She was vaguely aware of Oscar running to hide behind a plant. Snapping his cell phone closed, he stopped before the young woman, whose vision was rapidly growing gray.

"Hang up the phone, Collette."

She obeyed, staring at his tie.

"Look at me. No, not my tie… not my chin either… not the cheeks… higher, Collette… very good. Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, sir!"

"I have given you an order and your answer is to roll your eyes at me?" She jumped when he smacked his hand down on the counter, causing her to cringe. "Nobody _rolls_ their eyes at me!"

"Yes, sir!"

"I give you a job, a paycheck and this is how you upstarts betray me!"

"Yes, sir!" Blanching, she shook her head furiously. "I mean, no sir. I mean, well, we did that and that was very bad, but it will not happen again! Ever! Never!"

"Oh?"

"Nuh-uh, never!"

"Good. Now, I am here to observe the work, and if I find it lacking, including my… plans… you, and, uh, Plant-buy there, will wind up on the streets! You got me?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Get to work!" he snapped, and then, just like the BOSS he was, he was gone, possibly to kidnap and eat sacrificed virgins.

And, she saw, JR Chandler and Micaela Kincaide were heading in.


	8. Chapter 8

A Love Story

8)

"Jake Colby" signed into the hotel an hour after JR and Ms. Kincaide did. Sneaking into their hall, location provided by the beauty of paying a bellhop off, Tad studied the doors.

Well, not the doors themselves so much as contemplating the people behind the doors. JR… He couldn't process his stepson now, not after that stupid jealousy revelation in the plane. However, Micaela Victoria Kincaide…

Now, he couldn't comprehend that part. He remembered, all too quickly, a few mornings back, when JR had ever so kindly tossed her in jail. Yet, a few days later, what, they come to Switzerland together. At least he could rule out anything romantic or, to judge by the conversation he'd heard, anything _non_-homicidal.

Feeling even more baffled by the fact that their rooms were side-by-side, he stood there, like an idiot, trying to figure out why all this was going on. Finally, with a disgusted noise, Tad headed to his room…, which, surprise, surprise, was across from, and five rooms away from JR's.

Really, what could happen in a few hours while he napped and worked the kinks out of his neck?

"James, are you sure she's our Jane Doe?"

Vivianne glanced up from over her glasses, studied the woman who sat at the nearby table, eating her salad. "I'd bet my life on it."

"But, you said that- that she had a daughter?"

"That's what Dr. Janine Benson says, honey. Cady Cole, turning three this May."

"How does this doctor know her?"

"Not quite sure about that. She treats her, verbally, like a friend, but there's something about the way she reacted to a few of my questions."

"Think there might be a professional relationship?"

Vi took a sip of her coffee, watched as the woman finished a tomato. "Yeah. Janine is a trauma recovery doctor, helps to council people traumatized in accidents-"

"Car accidents," he finished quietly.

"Uh-huh."

"Jesus Christ."

Vi gave him a moment, decided that she'd have probably gone insane in just the last two days from the stress. The call from the nearby clinic, a report of a woman found six days after the accident, taken to a nearby hospital by a nearby hiker, who'd helped her give birth to her daughter. Vi wasn't the only one unnerved by the time slots. She had the crash but didn't go into labor for five days?

If somebody else was playing tag with an innocent car accident victim, it would explain why they hadn't given the information over willingly, that they had found someone.

"You have to watch her."

"You got it."

"We're still on for tomorrow, right?"

"See above answer, boss."

"Good… I gotta go, check a few things. Remember what I said. Stay and watch… and listen."

Hearing the quiet click, Vi hung up, watching as Cole stood to dump her trash.

* * *

"Never knew it could be that easy," Kendall noted.

Zach handed her the second cup of ice cream, which she took happily. "That's the point, Spunky."

She grinned at his nickname, one he'd come up with just before they went in to be lawfully wed. She sure as Hell liked it better than "spanky-buns." That was just disturbing for her neural pathways. "So, we relax here tonight?"

"Uh-huh. And tomorrow we head back to-"

"Let Mom commit murder."

"Hey, I can handle myself. You got the chocolate syrup? Good, thanks."

"Gimme the Oreos. Took you long enough. Yeah, like you can take getting stabbed."

"Don't challenge Zach Slater, Spunky, you'll lose, trust me."

Kendall's answer was a snort, although it was amused. "I can't wait to tell JR that he's gonna get his company back."

"Is his happy dance really that funny?"

"It's hysterical."

"Huh. Give me the marshmallows."

"Right away. Say, do you realize we're not even going to fit on the plane?"

"Eh, we can have some fun. God knows, we need it."

"Too true. So, you never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"In answer to that question, I ask one myself."

"Oh, for-"

"Why is the sky blue?"

"Air particles."

She grinned at his startled silence, and then he cleared his throat, shooting her a dirty look. "You weren't supposed to know that, Hart."

"That's the point, Honey-buns. That's the point."

* * *

Adam studied his coffee, stirred it with a spoon, missing the days when he could drink caffeine. "Are the rooms prepared?"

"Yeah, boss."

He looked up, studied his- well, his minion. "You sure? It'll go off without a hitch?"

"Yeah, boss."

"It can't be some half-assed job, Frank. I need it to happen when I want it to."

"Yeah, boss."

Good God, is that the only thing the idiot knew how to say? Setting down the coffee, Adam patted his legs, beaming despite the idiot standing before him, reveling in how easy his plan was coming together. When was the last time this was so easy?

Answer… never.

* * *

Her clothes were hanging in the closet, her cowboy hat resting above them; her shoes sitting nearby, waiting for her use.

Now, two hours after she got to the suite, she finished her call to Amy. The brunette still refused help but considering her own stubborn streak, Micaela couldn't exactly say anything, now could she? God, she just hoped that Amy was going to go with her instincts and let that doctor, what's his name, Joe, help her out with her all-powerful PLAN... boy, she wished she knew what that stood for.

In her fluffy white robe, she sat, waiting for dinner, contemplating when to call back Pa. She was wired and wished absently for something to occupy tonight. Tomorrow, she would start her spa 'investigation', but tonight? Well, tonight, she was trying to ignore the instinct that told her that there was something off about her 'mission'.

It was something that gnawed at the back of her mind, behind the lyrics to every Blues and Country song ever written, behind the lyrics to both '_Freebird'_ and '_Sweet Home Alabama'_. It was the same something that hadn't wanted her to sign those papers from Adam Chandler. She could practically hear Pa's voice, warning her to always follow her instincts.

However, she had to do this, prove that she could build up the Foundation on her own… _and then you can start on the club._

Anybody watching her would have noted the quick flash of guilt that caused her face to flush and her eyes to dart, even though her room was empty. The club… her baby, her hopes, her dreams, and the most pathetically selfish thing she'd ever decided to do.

The _Blue_ _Note_, originally in Boston, had been moved some years before tosome dorkylittle town in Maine and Micaela had been furious, ranted for days before realizing, hey, she could build her own. After the Foundation was settled, she could start on the _Blue Note_; make it better than the original... and far more eclectic.

Micaela nearly had a heart attack when her cell phone buzzed beside her, going off against her thigh and quickly grabbed it, feeling another surge of guilt to see the number. Taking a deep breath, she picked up, and was instantly greeted with Buck Kincaide's warm growl of "Baby girl!"

Micaela herself didn't understand where he'd gotten the name Baby girl for her. Nevertheless, it had been his pet name for her for as long as she could remember- Hell, since before she could remember. Rolling her eyes, and letting an edge of her Texan accent slip forward, she let out a just as enthusiastic, "Pa!"

"Did you eat yet?"

"Pa…"

"Answer me."

How could someone do that, be all giddy one second and trying to shove food down her throat the next? Running her fingers through her hair, she ground her teeth a bit. "I've already ordered a salad, Pa, don't worry."

"Good, but what kind of meat are you having?"

"It's a Caesar salad. With chicken."

Hearing the sigh, she could literally see the look on his face as he reacted as he always did to those 'diet trends' of hers. He'd tap her foot, push his hat back an inch and make a noise like an angry bull, which she could hear clearly even thousands of miles away. "A growing girl needs to eat, baby."

"I'm an adult. Twenty-five years old, Pa. I can feed myself."

"Couldn't always. Used to spit out your baby food like an excellent spittoon champion. The green on the kitchen walls isn't paint, baby girl."

"Oh, God, not the spitting story again. Look, let's get on with-"

"Did you sign anything for that snake?"

A child, no matter how old, will refuse to admit defeat to their parents. Ninety percent of the time, they'll whip up a lie, even though they know all it'll do is get them in even more trouble. Micaela Kincaide did the same now, blurting out a quick, "Huh? Oh… uh… no."

Needless to say, Buck was not fooled. He'd fallen for her lies when she was a girl, finally learned how to tell when her little head had come up with it. Usually, her fingers gave her away, they would twist up and knot themselves up, even though her eyes were pleasant and impossible to read. Her fingers, in Switzerland, must resemble pretzels, he decided, narrowing his eyes.

"What did you sign?"

"Nothing, Pa, absolutely nothing- Pa? Did you just…" Her eyes widened as she pulled the phone away, stared at it. "You hung _up_ on me? How dare you, you overgrown, half-blind, cowboy wannabe!"

Thoroughly insulted, she flung her phone down to the bed, seething.

* * *

The large, ominous thump caused JR to jerk his head out from underneath the water in the shower, scowling. Was the goddamn sky falling?

He'd been standing under the almost boiling water, trying to loosen up his shoulders and back when he heard it and he stood now, waiting for the next crash. When it didn't come, he went to go back and then-

_Wham_.

_Son of a_- Positively infuriated, he popped his head out, looked around. He couldn't see much through the steam but it sounded like it had come from behind the wall, the… next room over.

Why that little- Kincaide… had to be, didn't it? Unless… wait, did they hand out cowboys to, well, ride? Well, maybe not a cowboy but certainly something not quite right here. He stood, eyes narrowed, waiting, and it paid off when-

This next noise was different, a low grinding of what sounded like metal, a crunch of stone, and a crash of glass.

Then it came, a horrendous shriek that he remembered all too well from the accident, a sound that shouldn't be able to come from a human throat.

Psychologists believe in a little thing called atavism, and some people believe that most men's immediate instinct to go to respond to a woman's scream is a part of it… They believe it's what causes a man to run into a burning building to save a woman, causes a man to run to help a mugging victim.

Zach Slater wasn't quite sure about the idea, but after next January, he would be a deep believer after an ordeal with his wife.

Today, it was JR's turn to believe it. He was able to fight his instincts when she shrieked but when she _screamed_, the nerve in his eye began to twitch.

She'd been okay when the cabinet, then the bar had fallen and shattered, but when the entire wall collapsed inward… well, Micaela shrieked, jumping back towards the door. Then the other wall crumbled, falling inward across the table, the glass, and wood shattering beneath the weight.

This time she screamed, trying to wave the cloud of dust away from her face. Expecting the ceiling to come crashing in any second, she spun, began tearing at the doorknob, jumping and down. Finally, she threw it open, flung herself out-

And slammed full force into a male chest with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs. Yelping, she threw out one hand, grabbed the rescuers arm and held on as the dust finally hit her. The first sneeze slammed her head forward to hit the chest again, the next snapped her head back savagely, and the third left her leaning against him, dizzy.

"Jesus fucking…"

His voice was cut off by her next violent sneeze even as she tried to figure out why the voice sounded so familiar. Even as the next one hit her, she felt hands latch onto her arms, beginning pulling her forwards, out of the Dust of Hell. She felt her shoulder hit the doorway, knowing it would bruise, and didn't object when he finally half-lifted her.

Then she was sitting on a bed, hearing two voices, one angry, the other pleading. She sat and she got her breath back and she waited for her rescuer to explain what happened. When the door opened, she looked up and instantly regretted it, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

There, glaring down at her with cold blue eyes, in a pair of jeans and not much else, was JR fucking Chandler.

* * *

"It was supposed to happen tomorrow night, you idiots!"

Said idiots flinched back beneath his fury as he paced the length of the room, screaming.

"Tomorrow night! We needed to give them a night to seethe at their bad luck and then, tomorrow night, they'll get shoved together!" Grabbing up his laptop, he flung it, watching as it shattered upon hitting the opposite wall. "No more raises for you!"

"But, boss… you don't understand… it was set for tomorrow night, okay? We spent a day in that room, setting it all up, and it was set up correctly."

"What, you expect me to believe that someone just came in and-"

He froze, mouth snapping closed as he stared at the wall. His mouth reopened, then closed again, he hesitated and then, in a grinding voice, "Get out. All of you."

They rushed to obey and he stood there, his eyes narrowed before he finally leaned his head back to the ceiling. "We have a carefully formulated plan, Charlotte; you taught me that, you remember? Stick to the plan, no matter what. You cannot just change things… even if you decide you should."

* * *

"What happened?"

He had an annoyed look on his face, and he crossed his arms over his chest, making a noise that sounded a lot like Buck's angry bull noise. "That's what I'm trying to find out. I highly doubt that you can bring down half a room and they're concerned about how it fell."

"What do you mean?"

"Sabotage, Kincaide. They think that somebody set it up."

"What… why?"

"Don't know."

"Don't know or don't care?"

Micaela didn't know where those last words had come from and she knew that she'd had no right to say them, not after he'd helped her out of that damn room. Nevertheless, she spoke them anyway, and felt a rush of guilt fill her as she stared up at him. He wasn't tall, he was average, but well built and it was his Chandler genes that made him seem taller than he was, but to her, sitting on the bed, (his bed?), he looked like some Greek Titan, looming over her with might and power.

Micaela was baffled at the spread of heat through her stomach. Swallowing past the pain in her throat, she grimaced, waiting for his next jab.

It didn't come. Instead, she found him heading out the door, speaking over his shoulder, "Sleep in that bed, I'll take the couch."


	9. Chapter 9

_**A Love Story**_

9)

_Before her death at her own hands, before the pain had gotten too hard to bear, Charlotte Chandler had been a strong woman, capable of caring for two brothers, one who followed in her footsteps, and one who came with an edge of innocence that she'd never fully understood._

_As far as Stuart was concerned, growing up, she had been their mother, feeding them, clothing them when Beatrice was out working, which she spent all of her time doing._

_To Adam, her protégé, she was a leader, a teacher, a protector, and a woman who taught him how to give a woman a 'puppy' look. It was Adam that she'd always connected with, on that deeper level. They were two different articles of clothing, cut from the same cloth and, ironically, it was her greatest weakness that ended in his strongest lesson._

_He'd watched as she wasted, as her smiles wilted, her eyes emptied and her sense of self crumbled in the face of Pete Cooney. At moments in their marriage, Brooke English had been blessed enough to see what Stuart was so privy to, to be able to see just how terrified Adam had become of that look in a woman's eyes… in his son's eyes._

_Even after all that had happened between them- affairs, threats and divorce- she would never forget those moments, moments that she shared, unspoken, with Stuart. And, as much as she hated what Adam threatened to do to her son, whenever he passed her in the street, she saw what he saw when she met JR's gaze._

_It was that connection, one that very few could understand, that had led to her sitting at the table, listening to Stuart's worried tirade, her eyes absorbing Adam's carefully worded documents. Still, at least Adam did evil well, right? And, she had to admit, this was one hell of a plot._

_"Brooke… this is going to end horribly, we both know it and what about JR… when he learns what Adam's doing…" Gentle Stuart had been desperate after his talk with Marian and had set up plans with the only person who could get to Adam like he could._

_The redhead looked up, setting the papers down on the table, beside an unfinished mug of coffee. "From what I understand, Ms. Kincaide's only been in Pine Valley, what, three, four days?" He nodded and she grimaced, reaching up to press fingertips into temples, trying to ease the growing pressure that only came from dealing with Adam. "How could he have laid all of this out in that short a time slot, Stuart, even for him, really?"_

_"We both know how he feels about his children, Brooke, come on, we both know he could do this. He's probably dead tired but do you doubt he'd be able to find himself enough men?"_

_"Ah, Stuart, he doesn't need men for this. All he needs are signatures but, somehow, I highly doubt that he convinced Zach Slater and Kendall Hart to marry."_

_"How did you-"_

_"Don't worry, I won't tell Erica, I swear, but, the fact that the other part of this deal could come through at the same time?" Brooke sighed, rolled her shoulders. "Stuart, ninety-percent of this plan was pure luck, pure coincidence."_

_"But it's wrong-"_

_"You and I both know that, but it doesn't change the fact that they've both already signed the papers, signed the deals. Adam's got the future of four lives in this palm of his evil little hand and there's nothing we can do about it."_

_"Maybe I could sign as Adam-"_

_"Stuart, nothing about this plot is based around his signature. It's all based around four others. Apparently he's learned something from our years of getting involved in these schemes of his."_

_"That's not fair."_

_Brooke slipped the papers into the folder, drained her coffee and reached out to pat Stuart's hand, smiling encouragingly. "Don't worry about JR. I ripped into Adam over the phone after you called me. I didn't let him hang up until I knew that he listened. You know that there's not a Chandler alive that beat me one-on-one. I'm going to run to Livia's, see if I can stop the papers the hard way. Might as well try right?"_

* * *

The pain in his back woke him after a night on the couch. A deep-rooted ache that lay along his spine; when he breathed, it tightened up his chest and neck, making breathing difficult. From where he lay, in jeans and a shirt, he stared up at the ceiling, working to pack all the pain down and away. 

Finally, when his spine simply ached, JR looked down at the bottle on the table in irritation. Usually, the sleeping pills kept him out if his back started up, but, well-

_You're sleeping on a couch, JR. Do you expect you back to enjoy it?_

His inner voice was right, though he'd never admit it out loud. He was still a Chandler after all. He checked the clock, grimacing at the feel of his head turning. It isn't time for the meeting with Vi yet, he thought absently. But, maybe, he could find something else to do?

Unfortunately, seeing as how the spoiled Texan had taken control of his room, he was stuck in a suit he'd laid out the night before. A nice suit but JR liked picking out his clothes when he was ready. Well, he'd just have to find something to do, didn't he?

Bracing himself, he poked his head, very gently, into his bedroom, studying the sleeping… how the Hell could a little thing like that make so much noise! Swearing silently, he left the room, standing and trying to come up with something to do… Wait, he was her boss! He could force Vivianne to meet him earlier.

An hour later, he calmly taped the note to the inner side of the door, hoping to god that she wasn't here when he got back.

* * *

Chandler was gone when she woke up and she saw, with an edge of annoyance, that her bags sat near the door, where his very sweet and oh-so loving note for her to basically piss off. She was tempted to fling her clothes around the room just to irritate him and make his eye twitch. 

She, however, contrary to popular belief, was not quite that cruel; before even changing out of her nightgown and robe, she called up the management. Two minutes and sixteen seconds later, she began to contemplate how to tell Chandler that there were no rooms available yet.

Finally, with a pained noise, Micaela pushed herself into the room, dressing and trying to figure it out. It was like fate was conspiring against her! Car crash, stuck in plane with him, stuck in a suite with him… god, when would it end! Sitting on the bed, biting her lip, she slipped on her shoes, sighing.

Fox Crane… ugh… what was she going to do? Now that he'd been named successor of Alistair's company—when the rich old bastard had died in some kind of poisoning thing—he was in a whole new level of fame. And, after marrying what's-her-name, he'd had the little girl, what was her name? Tessa, right, short for his wife's name? Yet, despite the proud new paternal instincts, he was, well, he was…

Well, he was, in many ways, a complete and total jackass. But, sadly, he was a rich jackass… and they were always the worst kind.

* * *

Kendall Hart-Slater, in a new dress that she'd brought in Vegas, fluffed her curls, and tapped the toe of her shoe on the polished stone floor of Livia Frye-Cudahy, rolling her shoulders thoughtfully. Zach had dropped her off here and gone to get something done with the remains of his casino. She was a bit disturbed to be meeting both Brooke and Livia and, in general, this should be rather foreboding but she found herself in an oddly pleasant mood today. 

Glancing down to check her ring—_so pretty, isn't it?_—Kendall shifted it, making sure it was perfect before she let her hand drop back to her side. Jesus, how long did it take for two other women to get there? Maybe she should leave… head back home and prepare for hurricane Kane to hit when Mother learned that—

"Kendall?"

She jerked, her head turning to face the two shorter women, one eyebrow rising in a silent question. Brooke, at Livia's back, grimaced when her eyes found the rock on Kendall's slim finger; Livia nodded at her door and Kendall accepted the invitation, steeling herself as she followed Livia into the office.

Settling into the leather chair opposite Livia, Kendall tried to ignore the way that Brooke was hovering. It was irritating, and Kendall finally shot the redhead a look; Brooke moved away as Livia sorted through papers… clearly growing rapidly more nervous. At last, the Kane could take no more. "Livia… stop pulling the dramatic crap and tell me the bad news."

"Um…" A sigh, a grimace and Livia kneaded her knuckles against her forehead, "There is… a loophole."

"Loophole? What do you… huh?"

Brooke stepped up, smiled encouragingly. "A loophole with silver hair, and a disturbing amount of scheming ability." Kendall stared, blankly, and Brooke braced herself for hurricane Kendall. "Adam Chandler… he made a loophole."


	10. Chapter 10

_**A Love Story**_

10)

Cady's latest plan, something about making a balloon of pudding fly through the air, had succeeded. An hour of scrubbing had cleaned the splattered vanilla muck off of the playroom wall, yet she was still not quite able to grasp how a nearly three-year old could bring together such amazing creations.

She was still learning her ABC's for god sakes! Finally, she climbed off the ladder, grimacing at the pops in her back, and, pushing loose strands of sweaty hair from her face, flung the sponge into the sink, feeling an ache in her arms. If she was honest with herself, and she wasn't this week, she was more stressed from the meeting coming up than the actual cleaning.

Her clothes were already laid out and she'd need to shower again before she got dressed, mostly to wash the gunk from her loosened ponytail. When she entered the living room of the cottage, Cady, sitting in a chair and facing the wall, gave a heaving, wounded-puppy sigh, her little legs swinging. In a light blue nightie, her blonde curls were still knotted from a long night of wriggling around and planning.

Diana rolled her eyes, and Jinxie, at Cady's feet, echoed her sentiments in a heavy, pained sigh, his tail thumping once on the floor. Gina, reading from a romance novel, gave Diana a thumbs-up, beaming, "She's being good now, Ms. Cole… promised never to touch pudding again… I got her now."

"Yes, but are you—"

Waving away Diana's nervousness with a hand, Gina laughed. "Come on, you said the meeting was important, right? Right, so you go and take care of business, have a ball, huh?" When Diana still seemed uncertain, the young woman closed the book, peering at Diana with slightly condescending brown eyes. "I got the munchkin."

Forcing herself up the stairs, she had no way of knowing that Gina and Cady were now creating a new plan… this one involving the recipe for a toffee that would stick longest to the ceiling.

* * *

JR had hoped that the tightening in his leg from last night, after running out of the shower, was a passing thing. But, he discovered darkly, the muscles within his leg were tighter than they should be. Finally, he got up from the table where he waited with Vi and, excusing himself, headed to the bathroom; he was able to lock the door but his first wrong move came when he turned half-way.

The pain hit, seizing up the muscles in his left leg, mostly in the knee and calves and he grabbed the sink before it gave out. Fuck, fuck, fuck… hadn't it healed, a year ago? Hell, more than a year ago! Now, all of a sudden, what, it decided to bite him in the ass? Leaning his wait against the sink, he reached down and pulled up the leg of his pants, and began to work the flesh, trying to get the nerves to loosen up.

More than that though, it was frightening to him. His chest was tight with the familiar edge of fear at the thought of ending up with that kind of pain again. It had been difficult to get past that, but the leg had recovered and he'd been fine then, hadn't he? So, in theory, he should be fine now. Except… _I'm not okay, am I?_

* * *

"She's beautiful isn't she?"

Micaela looked up from the picture of Tessa Crane, arching an eyebrow at the blonde, brown-eyed playboy. Somehow, in his jeans and a loose shirt, he still managed to convey how much of the Crane power ran through his veins, despite how one flip-flopped foot sat on the chair at his left. "She looks a bit too much like you, Fox."

A look of dislike crossed his handsome face, a mocking grimace twisted his features and he sighed, patting his thigh. "Yeah, Theresa and I will get to beat little bastards off her with an ugly stick… Doesn't help that any pretty genes she skipped from me she got extra-pretty ones from her Mom…" he paused, slight touch of embarrassment flickered in his eyes as his lips curve into a slight smile. "I had a 'mommy' moment there, didn't I?"

"Just a little one," she laughed, pushing the picture back to him, feeling oddly warmed at his shift from whiny pretty-boy to Mr. Mom. "You sure changed there, Fox-y, didn't you?"

"It's called marriage; children and family… doubt you know the meaning of the words, Kincaide." He sighed again, slipped the photo of his wife and daughter back into his wallet, and putting that away as he dropped his foot to the floor of his office, leaning forward to study her intently. "I seem to remember the last time I asked you about the club… you denied any interest, right?"

"Don't pull this with me—"

"Oh, come on, Micaela; stop lying to another of your kind."

"I'm nothing like—"

"Really, come on, those of us who are forced to call pieces of shit 'mom' need to stick together right?" Though his face is casual, there's the familiar edge of childhood anger there, just beneath the surface. "I mean, Lynette was a piece of shit too, right? At least from what I heard… how many times did Buck get close before she snatched you away again?"

Even as she jumped to her feet, cold and dulled inside, the hand grabbed her wrist, yanked her back a bit, and she found herself thrown back into her seat, and his eyes had softened, the familiar anger drained off. "I didn't mean it like that…"

"Sign the papers Fox, or don't, but if you ever say anything…"

"Give me the papers and retract your claws," he snapped, pulling out a pen, "just stop this melodramatic crap, mm-kay?"

* * *

If Zach was upset about the loophole from the Great Chandler of Pine Valley, Kendall was absolutely pissed. Zach didn't think he'd ever seen such fury radiating from a woman. Everything about her alluded to the wrath simmering behind shockingly blue eyes, from her stride to the slim fingers that clutched her bag so savagely that Zach was half-surprised it wasn't already shredded. "That sick… creepy… bastard! I offer him into this deal and he spits in my—sorry, _our_ faces—how dare he? Have you ever heard of such a lack of respect!"

"Kendall, why don't you sit—"

For the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes, she interrupted him, shaking her bag threateningly into his face. He had the strange sensation of feeling like a teenager, having his mother shake her finger at him, ordering him to stay away from that girl down the street. It was a disconcerting feeling and made his stomach lurch in some unpleasant ways.

"Oh, when I get my fingers around his neck!" Still standing right in front of him, her rather loud yell made it a veritable blast into his eardrums; the only thing that kept him flinching was the fact that he knew for a fact that predators can smell fear. "What am I going to tell JR!"

"Maybe he knows already—"

But Kendall, still hyped up, interrupted him, yet again, waving the bag again furiously and he resisted the urge to snatch it and fling it out of the nearest window. "JR? When he finds out about this crap of Adam's, he'll commit patricide! Bloody and grisly and horrible patricide and—Oh… I can sell tickets!"

"Kendall, have you sat down at all since Livia told you about this?" The dirty look was answer enough and, before she could swipe again with that bloody bag, he grabbed her by the arms, despite her twisting and writhing, she found herself unable to break the grip on her arms.

As she found herself dragged into the elevator and out the front door of his office, about to be dismantled if Maxie had her way, she glared furiously at anybody who crossed her path; the force at her back kept her legs moving and, the next thing she knew, she found herself shoved into the front seat of his Rover and then, bam, she was strapped down like a fresh stag. "I'm not a—"

SLAM!

"—child," she finished lamely, her anger startled into non-existence at the shock of someone slamming a door in her face. Before she could build back up her anger, she felt the car wheeled behemoth moving forward. But, when she twisted her head to glare murderously, she found that he glanced back easily, giving her a look of such simple amiability that she was struck speechless.

Drained, doubting that she had the courage to fling herself out of the moving vehicle… especially with Zach's driving ability.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A Love Story**_

11)

Diana was too queasy to eat the breakfast that Mr. Chandler had brought her, pushing her eggs across the plate and frequently stabbing the yolks, the contents of which were smeared across her plate. He seemed to be having the same problem, but he seemed better at faking it. When he'd spotted her heading over to the table of the restaurant, he'd waved away the attractive blonde woman—wife, maybe?—and leaned forward to pull out a seat for her.

With one leg stretched out and an odd look on his face, he'd started firing off questions about her name… where did she get it… who gave it to her… any minute now she expected him to ask her to recite the names of the Capitals in alphabetical order off the top of her head. Yet, she couldn't just leave… especially not with that strange urge to tell him to get his elbows off the table. It almost felt like she was eating with Cady.

When he'd asked for the picture of her daughter, she'd tugged it out of the bag, handing it over with an odd sense of calm. But now, a half-hour after his eyes had latched onto it, she wondered if he was ever going to hand it back. Maybe she should ask for it— "Is Cady her real name?"

Diana finally pushed her full plate away, meeting his eyes, feeling more unnerved about _feeling_ unnerved… was she losing her mind. "No, it's a nickname. Her—her real name is Kate, but she says that it's a boring name."

"A three-year old said that the name was boring?" he asked, head cocked as he passed the picture over, those intense blue eyes boring into her. Talk about blue eyes, she thought absently, clearing her throat and looking away until after she had accepted the picture of Cady and Jinxie back.

"Yes, and she also decided to ride the dog the other day… and let's not forget the pudding incident," she added under her breath. "Mr. Chandler, why are you asking me all these questions, about me and my daughter and—look, if you don't take you elbows off the table, I swear you are going to be in so much—" Feeling a flush of heat fill her face, Diana shut her mouth, feeling a wave of horror pass over her. Oh, god, she had just threatened the Chandler heir!

But, surprisingly, there came no backlash, no flare of anger and, when she rose her head from her hands, she found him staring, just staring. When she shifted slightly, unnerved by the focus of his gaze, something strange passed through the back of his gaze, an odd sort of _something_ that destroyed her urge to jump up and run out of the restaurant. _Still, his elbows are off the table now_, she thought absently.

He looked away, leaning back in his seat, and she had the feeling that he didn't want anyone to look him in the eyes. When he finally spoke, finally broke the growing anxiety she had in the pit of her stomach, his voice was empty, but it was more than that. It was like an absence of anybody behind that voice. If she had heard that voice over a phone, she'd most likely have wondered if it was a computerized one.

"I need to know what happened before that crash, Ms. Cole. I've tracked you down for a reason and I need to have these questions answered, especially now."

"I don't—look, I don't remember the crash—"

"Do you remember all- ahem, excuse me, allthose surgeries?"

"No, I… it's all so hazy, and it's just so difficult to bring up… Janine says that I'm blocking it out, so, apparently, it was horrible…" she hesitated, then dragged her fingers through her hair, feeling the familiar ache in her mind from trying to bring up those blocked memories. "I just… I survived and I had my daughter… and, isn't that enough of a miracle?"

"But you've never thought about it? What might have existed before the crash? Don't you care?"

"Nobody came looking—" She stopped at the flinch he gave, going quiet and shutting her mouth.

He rubbed his face, still refusing to look at her. "Do you ever wonder about, at all? About the family you might have had?"

"It doesn't make sense, people would have come looking, for me, for my little girl. We wouldn't still be here."

"You look different."

"What?" she stopped, tensed, looked around, clearing her throat, "What are—"

"I knew you… before the crash…" He hesitated, rubbed his face and she had a sudden flash of a boy biting his nails when he got stressed. It was a familiar image, that little boy, but, again, she brushed it aside, forced it back, trying to focus in on him. "Are you… you knew… know me?"

"Really well," he said quietly, still refusing to look right at her. He inhaled, let out his breath through his nose, and she disliked the edge of stress in the sigh. "I knew you really well."

* * *

When Vivianne found herself being watched, it took her a few minutes to figure out why her stalker looked so familiar. The pictures in Dixie Cooney's file had included a few flashes of him. Tad Martin, right? Her stomach sinking, Vi shifted, sliding around a nearby door to get out of his view. And, of course, he followed.

Goddamn sonabitch. Maybe she shouldn't have so obviously ran away from him. She'd been a PI long enough, hadn't she? Pushing blonde hair over a shoulder, Vi was pathetically grateful he hadn't seen Mr. Chandler in there… she didn't even want to imagine his reaction if Mr. Martin decided to see who the woman was.

By the way, how was she supposed to happily inform her boss that his biggest pain in the ass was somehow In Switzerland? Just the thought caused her to feel ill. It was easy to work for JR Chandler. He was generous with pay and all he wanted in return was loyalty. Stopping, Vivianne looked out carefully as a busboy went bouncing by—_nice ass_—and studied him. Blue yes met hers and she felt a surge of embarrassment, clenching her fists… until she realized something: he hadn't noticed her boss yet.

_Okay, fine, let's take a different road here_, Vivi. Maybe, if she could play a little game of "stupid detective", he'd never even have to know about Diana Cole, right? Feeling calmed at the thought of not losing her monthly check, Vi glanced again, hesitating a moment before darting away. For a moment, she was worried, until she caught sight of him rushing after her. She smiled to herself, flipped her hair happily and began lifted her cell phone off her jeans clip. _This is why he pays me,_ she thought as she dialed the number for her boss's boss.

* * *

"You better stop acting like some chivalrous knight, buddy, I'm not falling for it." Her tone was superior, and the look in her eyes as she stared coolly up at him was even more so. She'd calmed down over the car ride back to her apartment and now, as she stared up at him, holding open the car door for her, she tried very hard to ignore her wild urge to run out and get him a suit of armor… not that he needed to know that.

Zach just snorted, continued to hold open the door to her and she finally stepped out through the Rover door, knowing it was useless to resist. Slamming the door as she pulled her coat tighter around herself, he slid his hands into his pockets, watching her until she finally heaved an irritated sigh and looked over. "What do you want, Mr. Forehead?"

"Why do you do that?" he asked curiously, actually interested.

"Do what?" she snapped, starting off across the parking lot and trying to ignore his presence at her back… shouldn't it be irritating?

"Pretend like you don't about people?"

"You are no person, Zach… you are barely a thing." He just smiled slightly, followed her, hands still in his pockets. She shouldn't be this much fun, right, after all, this was Kendall Hart, pariah of Pine Valley, so how could she possibly be so much fun? Stopping at her door, shooting him a scowl over her shoulder, before reaching into her bag to dig out her keys. "You… would you shoo?"

"Well, I should make sure that my loving wife is safe in bed, Spunky."

"You ever come near my bed…" she muttered, and she twisted the key, making that noise in her throat that he was becoming familiar with. Stepping through, into the darkened room, she turned halfway, offering him a chilly glance as he stepped in too. Switching on the light, she stopped him with a hand to the chest, forcing him back slightly.

"Don't you dare pull that crap with—"

"You get away from my daughter you sick son-of-a-bitch!"

Zach's head snapped up; Kendall spun, her eyes widening when they fell on her mother, Bianca at her back, absolutely furious. In that moment, Zach saw the full resemblance between Erica and Kendall. Erica may break her neck looking up at her eldest daughter, but the eyes, though different in color, had the same blaze there.

_They looked the same when they're pissed_, Zach thought in fascination, studying Erica, striding over with all the fury of a tiny torpedo while Bianca, in black slacks and a dark top, just stared at Zach in wide-eyed shock… but her eyes grew even wider when her sharp gaze fell on the glittering gold and diamond ring that so nicely caught the light.

Bianca's mouth opened partly, she took a step forward… Erica grabbed Kendall, shoved her back behind her protectively… and one small hand caught him across his left cheek so hard that he half-expected to go flying out of the apartment… before he could completely recover, his head snapped the other way and he decided, very calmly, that he was going to have fun at their first Thanksgiving together as a family.

* * *

Micaela stared at the door, unable and unwilling to use the key to go in. She needed to, right, because, technically, it was her place to sleep. Was this going to be the rest of her vacation? Instead of mud baths and back rubs, she'd be having to dodge jabs from the five-year old in a twenty-something year old body with a lot of money and power.

_Ugh… this is ri-goddamn-diculous_, she thought unhappily, studying the door, shifting her shoulders… glancing to the left, she studied the door with the large sign that she was supposed to be sleeping in. She wanted to sleep there, away from Mr. Bitchy…

_Don't worry, Micaela, you can always strangle him with his stupid tie… stupid tie, _she thought unhappily, moving forward to open the door.


	12. Chapter 12

_**A Love Story**_

12)

Erica nailed him a good a third time before Kendall managed to grab the smaller woman with a squawk of "Mother!" Shoving the Prima Donna back, Kendall set herself firmly in front of Zach—_Kendall, why are you defending him_—fixing her mother with a defiant stare. "What the Hell do you think you are doing to him!"

"Breaking my neck, Spunky—now, what was that for, honey-bunny?" he asked pleasantly, rubbing his jaw, as she smacked him in the arm with her purse.

The noise that came from the tiny torpedo reminded Zach of a freight train, and he knew full well that most people from Pine Valley would have slipped away… but Kendall's reaction was too good to miss. Flinging her hands, hysterical in its own right, she let out an over-dramatic sigh, which turned into a wail just before it ended.

"Kendall, don't you worry about him… I've given him and that brat daughter of his enough warnings to last a lifetime… you just let me handle him—"

"Mom…"

"Just don't worry about it! I can handle Mr. Cambias!"

"Mom!"

The last yell was enough and she shifted, halting her tirade long enough to look at her firstborn, blinking twice. Behind her, Bianca was still gaping like a fishbut at least she wasn't blurting it out yet, right? Taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the intangible fury that her mother was sending Zach's way, Kendall braced herself as she held out her hands in a hopefully comforting pose, smiling hopefully. "Mother… we were having a business… discussion."

An utterly baffled look, a widening of brown eyes… "Darling… why?"

"Um… it's… complicated."

"Where did you get you get that… did that little friend of yours, Ethan, get it for you?"

Zach, beaming, opened his mouth and took a step forward, but Kendall shoved him back savagely with a hiss of "Back off, Brainiac!" before turning back, letting out a yelp when Erica snatched her hand and yanked it forward; Kendall stumbled, would have fallen if Zach hadn't grabbed her arms again and she flinched when his hold caught the bruise from the newspaper, almost gone.

"Mom… let's go out for dinner, er, lunch… we can, um, talk!" But her attempts were in vain as Erica's eyes found the gold on Zach's finger… and a large fake smile plastered itself across her face. "Honey… why does his cheap ring match this nice one?"

"Um… Mom… let's go…"

"Answer me, Kendall!"

"Um…"

Zach, chuckling, reached forward, wrapped one arm around his lovely wife's shoulders and pulled her forward, offering his mother-in-law a broad smile. "Ms. Kane… aren't you going to offer us congrats?"

"No…" The whisper was so horrified, so absolutely broken that Kendall cringed and then gasped when he went to step forward. Despite her desperate yanks on his jacket, and her whispers to stop, he stopped in front of Erica and flung open his arms, grinning like some kind of warped genie… "Mom!"

_

* * *

Tad knew better than to chase an unknown woman into an alley. However, as previously mentioned, Tad wasn't listening to his instincts all that well lately. So, in some ways, it was a kind of a cosmic "na, na, na, na, na, na" when Adam stepped up behind him and connected a piece of two-by-four across the back of Tad's large, bloated head._

_Needless to say, the stupid Cad wannabe dropped like the useless sack he was._

* * *

Adam watched, head cocked, smiling pleasantly, as the stupid idiot was dragged out of the alley by his arms. Setting the wood aside, he turned back to young woman, who stood and smiled back brilliantly. "That was very good, Vivianne."

"Least I could do," she chirped, as she tugged on her jacket, ridiculously pleased with Mr. Chandler's ability to get her that fast. She'd managed to dodge his questions by feigning to only speak Swedish. After a good fifteen minutes his eyes had narrowed and he'd figured it out. Thankfully, Adam had hit the scene—_and the useless sack_—a split second later.

"I knew this idiot would try to screw this up," he muttered, staring as the dragging feet left his sight. "Can't just drop the crap and leave my plans alone." He turned back to the blonde, arched an eyebrow, "And you… you called me—"

"I'm sorry, sir, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Adam grinned, tugged the lapels of his coat in a very manly, gangster way and strutted back to his hotel room.

* * *

Diana stared for long moments at the card, tapping it against the wheel of her car, biting her lip, considering her breakfast buddy's sudden change when she'd excitedly questioned about her life before Switzerland. Finally, he'd handed her over the card, instructing her to call him the next morning.

"_I can tell you… everything... just call me, um… tomorrow."_

She wanted to, wanted desperately to hear that her family had been looking for her and for Cady, that they were still waiting for her except… _they thought your were dead, Diana… they've been in mourning… for you and for Cady too probably._

_And, now, what, they're just going to, what, decide to forgive you for not looking for them?_

Diana flinched helplessly, swallowing, and looked at where the young man had been driven off. _He'd seemed happy to see us, Diana, so, maybe, they won't really hate us?_

* * *

He spent a good half hour in the car, just staring blankly, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, he forced himself out and headed, absently, back into the hotel… _through the doors… into the elevator… down the halls… _entering his room, he quietly clicked the door closed behind him.

After he closed the blinds, he reached up and tugged on his tie, loosening it, before pulling it off and letting it fall to the ground of the suite. He shrugged off his overcoat, then his jacket, letting them keep his tie company. He was drained, in every way, of anything; for the first time since Christmas, there wasn't that ache where his heart should be.

He was going to take advantage of it. Grateful for the emptiness of his suite, he slipped into his bedroom, noticing, with irritation, that the maid hadn't taken care of the bed. He wanted to change the sheets, what if he got something from the Driving Wonder? But… just the thought made his knees unstable and his hands shaky.

Knowing he would regret it when he spent next week with the flu, JR nonetheless kicked off his shoes and let himself slide into bed, feeling like a dead man walking. Not having the strength to even pull the sheets over himself, JR was asleep in a matter of two heartbeats.

The first heartbeat was connected with the thought of going to see a chiropractor… the second wondered what the Hell was breathing at his back…


	13. Chapter 13

_**A Love Story**_

13)

_Tad studied the plate of pancakes… looked up at the pancake maker, grinning. "Are you sure it's humanly possible to digest this much food?"_

_Dixie gave a laugh, came back to the table with her beloved syrup jug, pouring some out across the mountain o' pancakes before setting it carefully on the table, beaming, blue eyes sparkling. She was dazzling, in her nightgown, blonde curls bouncing, and he resisted the urge to grab her and head upstairs._

"_You like my pancakes, don't you?"_

"_Of course, but… um, this is a lot of pancakes, Dix… lots." He stabbed the top one as a nod to just how many and she laughed, leaning back against the table, stretching out her bare toes playfully. "As in… many."_

"_Yes… and this'll only hurt for a second."_

_He swallowed the first bite, cautiously raised his head, letting out a baffled "What?"_

_Dixie smiled brightly, brought her skillet out from behind her back and brought it down on his head with a graceful laugh..._

Tad's first real thought, upon realizing that Dixie had never hit him with a pan—_at least not that I remember_—was the pain that filled his head. Everything hurt, and he lay where he was, keeping his eyes closed and struggled to relieve the ache so that he could breathe easier.

He was dully aware that he could not lift his arms so he stopped trying; he lay there, breathing, for a good three minutes before finally forcing his eyes open a fraction. Thankfully, the prison he was currently in was darkened and so there was no driving pain from the bright light.

Turning his head, he stared blankly at the ties around his wrist, which were connected to what looked like a headboard; ignoring the throbbing, Tad turned to the other side, studying the other wrist. Huh… he'd bet money that, to judge by his inability to move his legs, his ankles were tied too.

"Have a good sleep, Lucy?"

Oh, no, he knew that voice, that smirk, that sparkle in the eyes, the sinister air that he wrapped himself in like a blanket. There he was, standing at the foot of Tad's prison—_couldn't he keep me prisoner on a nice hotel bed?_—and all he was missing was the old villain music and the outfit: black cape and top hat, maybe a mustache for extra drama?

Tad's answer, graceful, poetic and powerful, was nonetheless pathetically short… "Oh, crap."

* * *

Kendall was awakened from a dream about pink elephants and dancing hippos by a blaring phone. Mumbling, she grabbed twice before she managed to connect her hand to the phone; her eyes still glued together, she croaked out, "Yeah?"

"Kendall?"

"Mm… unh…"

"Look, it's me."

"Uh?"

"Jack. Kendall, stop trying to speak and just listen… good girl… you need to get over here… there's something… ahem, there's something wrong with your mother."

_

* * *

_

_The feel of a leg across his stomach as he slept… the warmth of breath against his skin… the feel of a body curled against his… _Enjoying the sensation, he reached out absently, patted the bare leg that crossed his shirt-covered stomach. The leg wasn't Babe's, wasn't his wife's… it made him a bit sad but…

JR's eyes snapped open, to meet the dimly lit ceiling as his mind shifted carefully through its last thought, a cautious ruffle through words. _There is a leg across my stomach… a clean, bare leg…_ he patted it thoughtfully, raised an eyebrow at what felt like a scar behind the knee… _a bare leg that doesn't belong to my ex-wife…_

The next pat made the leg shift and he turned his head, watching as what resembled a nest of black yarn raised to peer at him with dark eyes. He was vaguely disturbed at the resemblance the thing had to that creepy chick from "_The Grudge_"… right down to the clicking… _oh, no, that's the clock… never mind, JR…_

In the dim light, there was just an odd silence as two pairs of eyes, one blue and one dark… _kind of like doe-eyes…_ met over the sheets that she was tangled in… he wondered if she was as naked as she looked… _naked as her leg looks_… and then, somewhere outside the room with it's closed curtains and halted time, a car honked.

The honk wasn't all that loud, not through the glass and stone, but, for some reason, it interrupted a something… a mouth he hadn't seen through the nest opened and he was under attack from Micaela-fucking-Kincaide.

Her scream was bad enough when he was awake but on a sleep-deprived mind it was as if someone had stuffed a whistle into his brain and blown it with a foghorn… With a single yell of "Fuck!" he threw the leg off and flung himself back, forgetting that the bed wasn't quite as big as he liked his bed to be… His back spasmed in protest at hitting what had to be the coldest, hardest carpet imaginable, but he couldn't climb to his feet, not with the sheet apparently tied around every single one of his body parts…

Grunting, he yanked savagely on the leg still stuck under her ass and she let out another scream as she toppled back into her pillow, which blessedly muffled her screeches… finally, dragging himself up with the drawer, he stumbled out of the room, trying to unwrap the sheet from around his arms and legs, staggering, and finally letting himself slide to the couch, shaking and exhausted.

The noise had quieted… and the curtains were thankfully still closed against what looked like afternoon sun… when the door to his bedroom had opened, he slowly turned his head, inch by inch, to observe her… funny, she had looked kind of naked…

But her large shirt that read "Welcome to Tex-ASS" was wrinkled and the edge of the green shorts that peeked out from beneath were also wrinkled… _she hadn't been naked_, he thought thankfully… _yes, brain, thankfully, of course thankfully_… and he could concentrate on how loud he was about to scream at her…

Surprisingly, however, he found himself speaking in a disturbingly quiet voice as they stared at each other from across either side of the room. "How dare you sneak back in here to seduce me?"

_Wait, seduce me... wait, JR, buddy, what! Okay, that was a strange beginning to a rant_, he decided, especially considering how she was not yet on her knees, begging for forgiveness, because, hey, she just pissed off a Chandler here! But his next try was even more baffling… "Couldn't you have done it with your clothes off! I'm not that skilled… yet."

_When we got her upset_, he decided as her mouth opened, _we_ _have to make sure we have ears plugs or something because…_ "You low-down, no-good, dirty, short-of-stature, whining, stuck-up sonofabitch!" she screamed as she jumped off the step into the bedroom and approached him with an air of extreme violence. "You goddamn excuse for a human being… I'm gonna hitch you to my Pa's truck and hit the gas… drag you up and down the goddamn ranch you goddamn sonofabitch!"

He wasn't quite sure how he could understand what she was saying… before, when she'd talked, he'd only picked up the accent because of living with his Mom and knew accents, but now… he realized with an odd sense of amusement that she'd been hiding her accent this entire time… her real voice, filled with complete and total Tex-ass rage, was absolutely hysterical. From her inability to finish a word without beginning another to the twang that twisted every single word, he found himself desperately fighting the urge to laugh right in her face.

"I won't pay for the damages."

A heartbeat of absolute silence before… "Huh?"

Bracing his back and legs, still throbbing after the fall from the bed, JR pushed himself off the couch and she found herself staring at an expensive, albeit wrinkled shirt, speechless as she leaned her head back to meet his eyes. With a truly disturbing glint in his crystalline gaze, he smirked and it looked all too natural on what should have been a young face. "You said that you're gonna hitch me to your "Pa's" truck and hit the gas… when you hit the barn, I'm not going to pay for the damages."

Her voice was low and lethal and she swung her finger up to between his eyes, feeling a bit cheated when he didn't cross them the way most idiots did. "Don't you dare bring up my driving record, Junior."

Another, broader, smirk… a cocked eyebrow… a stronger glinting… "Good point… why would anyone expect anything better from a…"

"Don't finish that—"

"Texan?"

Oh, he was evil, true evil, the spawn of Satan, from his stupid muscles that no stupid white boy should have to his stupid blue eyes to his dumb hair… Her mouth opened and closed, trying to find hurtful words to sting him… anything to make him flinch and feel sorry for making her enjoy the feel of his hand on her leg before she realized it…

But she never meant to say what she did… never, not that, because, she had some vague idea of what he was going through… God knows, she saw her father still experiencing it… years later, she'd still feel waves of guilt from it, a heaviness when she glanced at him, even after he forgave her… "I guess your son's lucky not to have to deal with you, huh?"

As soon as the words were gone, she clamped a hand over her mouth, and if somebody had threatened her with a gun, she would have taken them up on the offer… she realized, as he bent half-way to pick up his jacket, that he'd been enjoying their fight-fest… _oh, shit, oh, shit, Kincaide, you can't keep your fucking mouth shut…_

God, she hated that look, that dullness in the eyes and slackness of shoulders and arms… unable to say anything that could reverse time and shove the words back in, she was forced to stand in horrified silence as he left the hotel room, quietly clicking the door closed behind him.

* * *

Kendall, with her hair resembling a large bird nest, got to the hospital, the psych ward, a half-hour after she got the call from Jack. She was shivering, cold, even in the warmth of the hospital. Swallowing past the knob of terror in her throat, which threatened to choke her, she forced her shaking legs to take a step at a time toward where Jack and Joe were speaking in quiet terms.

As soon as he spotted her, Jack, ever the gentleman, strode over and offered his arm; her hand, shaking like a leaf, locked down as she focused attention on Joe, who offered her a reassuring smile as he closed the clipboard. "Kendall, this is nothing life or death, so don't worry about that, okay?"

When she jerkily nodded, he indicated the room and she jerked slightly to see Erica through the glass, in perfect clothes and immaculate hair, sitting on the end of a bed, flipping channels and eating fries from a tray on Bianca's lap. The fear lessoned… until she remembered that she was standing in the psych ward. "She looks… she looks fine Joe."

"Well," a moment of hesitation, a tap of fingers across that damned board before he sighed again. "Physically, she is. Mentally, however, well… has she been surprised with anything lately?"

_Oh… fuck… Kendall, you drove Mom insane, how could you, you spoiled, ungrateful…_ "No," she chirped, although she found that the shaking in her limbs was still going on. They didn't have to know yet, right? "No, of course not… not that I know of."

Jack's Kane-sense flicked to life at the glaze of guilt sliding over his soon-to-be step-daughter's gaze, and his eyes narrowed slightly… and Joe saw both, and fervently wished that Mona was around to shake out her daughter and granddaughter… "Well," he stated calmly, putting the board away on the wall by the door, "You can go visit her… just be gentle."

"Um… okay…" She hesitated for a moment before forcing her feet forward… slipping in, she ignores Bianca when the younger woman reached out to touch her arm; rebuffed, the other Kane slipped out, looking devastated. Setting her bag on the chair, she winced at the brilliant smile on her mother's face.

"Mother…" Clearing her throat, feeling a fresh surge of guilt, Kendall eased herself down next to her mother, picking up the smaller hand. "Mother… no, don't talk," she urged, pressing a finger against her mother's lips and stopping her before she could speak.

"I want you to know… this isn't some sick Cambias game, okay? What Zach and I are doing? It's a plan that we've worked out, no more, no less… you don't have to be afraid for me… No, mother, listen to me… As soon as we get what we want, we're going to annul the marriage… It's even in the contract… yes, Mother, the contract…"

Erica smiled, kissed her daughter on the cheek and patted her eldest hand, before leaning back, beaming. Flipping her perfect hair, she opened her mouth and spoke… "Harff jer goll, Nadda, harff jer goll!"

* * *

When Diana realized that she recognized the car outside the cabin, she stopped contemplating murder weapons. Feeling a bit wired, she cautiously climbed out of her car, pulling her coat on and heading for the car where Mr. Chandler sat. He didn't jump when she tapped on the window with two knuckles, just reached out and rolled down the windows.

He stared up at her, and the emptiness, nothingness there caused her to flinch physically. Holding the edge of the window, she bent slightly, studying him. God, there was nothing there, not a single flicker of any emotion as he stared at her and she searched for something to say to get that empty out of his gaze.

"What… ahem, what are you doing here, JR?" When he didn't even open his mouth, she reached in to cautiously brush her fingertips across his shoulder. He pulled away slightly and she hesitated before letting out a quiet, "I just came to… say hi."

"Then why aren't you wearing shoes?"

For long moments he stared down at his bare feet, opened his mouth, closed it and finally turned to observe her with a desperate _something_ on his face. He cleared his throat and finally, in a strangely calm voice, commented, "I think I forgot to put them on."

* * *

Having to lay in a bed and watch his arch-enemy plan for three goddamn hours had to be one of the worst experiences in Tad Martin's life. Right up there with the cancellation of "_Night Court_" and the end of the McRib at McDonald's. He laid there, bound and gagged, attempting to burn holes in Adam's skull with his heat vision… as soon as he got heat vision.

Despite his best attempts at untying himself, his tries were in vain as he found that Adam could make one Hell of a knot when he needed to. Finally, his muffled yells made the silver-haired snake turn half-way, looking disgusted, and the older man stood, crossing over to the PI.

"Shut up, you stupid idiot!" Snapping open the drawer, he digs out… _oh, shit, Martin_… a roll of duct tape, grinning like some devious evil bastard. Tad threw himself to the left furiously, and when he tried to pretty much break the bed to get away, Adam managed to drag the gag from his mouth, despite Tad's repeated attempts to bite his fingers off.

And so it was that Tad martin found himself abandoned in a suite, with two guards… _their muscle density higher than they're IQ's… _on either side of the bed, mouth covered by several layers of duct tape, plotting the gruesome death of Adam Chandler as the said bastard headed off to destroy his step-son's life.

* * *

About an hour after leaving the hospital, and after three hours of listening to what Erica seemed to think was normal language, Kendall had several words written in a notepad and was studying them as she sat in her bath, curls secured up with a few chopsticks, covered up to her chin in pink bubbles.

Her name in Erica-ese seemed to be "Nadda", while Binks went by the name Keeks… Poor Jack was stuck being called "Foofoo" until she got her head back on right, apparently. Reaching up, Kendall poked thoughtfully at her glittery pink gel mask, popping one foot out of the water and letting it dry halfway before slipping it back under the bubbles. She was in quite a pink mood these days.

"Harff jer goll" clearly translated to "I love you" while those words that she's giggled into Jack's ear as she'd dragged him… icky… didn't _need_ to understand those. As it was, Kendall understood full well how Atlas had felt. First and foremost was the simple fact that her marriage had apparently driven her mother insane. Joe insisted that, upon learning of the nuptials, Erica had experienced a kind of mental glitch.

_You never should have let her go home alone, Hart…_ Where had she been before she'd gone to Jack's the night before? He'd woken up to find her speaking happily in her little language and had rushed her to the hospital. Jack's reaction to the marriage had been a bit better… he'd muttered about finding himself a shovel and an empty ditch as he led Erica out to his car by the arm.

Next was the slight worry about, yeah, fine, she'd admit it, she'd been worried about Zach when she'd realize what the shovel and ditch were for. But, being too proud to run to his closing casinos and tell him to watch himself, she'd figured out a way… Edie. The other woman, with laughter in her voice, had assured her over phone that she would protect her boss loyally, even if it meant taking a blow from a shovel.

Then, the over-hanging fear of the "Loophole"… a nagging fear that tinged everything else. She wanted to call up JR, call him home to get his input on how to solve the problem, especially considering _who_ the other part of the loophole was, but… Feeling disgusted, Kendall tossed the notepad into the corner, leaning back in the water and sighing tiredly. When would this all stop for JR? God, a person had his limits, had a point where they had to stop… stop or just break.

Kendall had the horrifying feeling that JR was heading for the "break" path.

* * *

Maxie Malone had been taught at a young age to take whatever she could get. Being raised as the daughter of one of the more infamous Vegas showgirls, Caroline Malone, had been tricky. It had been easy enough to follow him to Pine valley, although it had been a bit more difficult to get her hands on a DNA sample, but, hey, that was what useless lesbians for, right?

She was set, and she knew it, and no one could stop her. And, hey, why shouldn't she help out Bianca and go after Chandler? Granted, maybe going after FUSION was a bit cruel, but, hey, she wasn't going to sit around and let that spoiled bitch mock her… not Maxie, never Maxie.

Yet, she found a nagging something over her head now, even as she sat and browsed through HSN… calling up every few minutes. Even buying herself a new laptop—_I can always use a third one_—didn't push the feeling back and out of her way.

It was when she flipped past "_Access Tonight_" that she saw the picture. Even behind the huge glasses and with the wind blowing her curls this way and that, Kendall Hart was unmistakable. And so was… Maxie turned the volume up, breath catching in her throat.

"…though our shocking pictures were repeatedly ignored, we have just received a call from Mr. Slater's personal secretary, Edith Harrison, who announces that Mr. Slater has indeed married Kendall Hart, daughter of infamous fashonista, Erica Kane. The two, pictured here, boarding a plane out of Las Vegas, married early on January 8, in a quick Las Vegas ceremony, at one of his casinos, only an hour before it was forcefully shut down…

"This comes only a couple of weeks after the announcement that showgirl Maxine Malone was in fact, his long-lost daughter… and that he was, in fact, the once thought long-dead Alexander Cambias JR. who was believed to have been killed decades ago in a car bomb… All of this press had been doing wonders… until Ms. Malone, upon receiving her share of the Cambias pie, set her sights on his casinos.

"Ms. Harrison, it should be noted, also admits that Mr. and Mrs. Hart-Slater have officially announced that they intend to overturn the will of the late Alexander Cambias, Ms. Malone's own grandfather. We're sure to be entertained when these two sides clash for the Cambias fortune…

"In other news, Asa Buchanan has opened a new wing in the Llanview hospital, dedicating it to his lost son, Clint Buchanan, who was tragically lost in a plane crash just twenty-six years ago. Of course, he left behind his widow, Victoria Lord Davidson and his children, including Lieutenant-governor, Kevin Buchanan, father of the still missing Ace Buchanan, and the search for the boy has hit yet another wall today in light of—"

Clicking off the TV, Maxie stared, blankly, for long moments at the black screen, eyes wide as she struggled to absorb the words. Kendall Hart… no, Kendall Hart-Slater… married… him?

With shaking hands, Maxie reached up, then let her hand limply drop back down and she swallowed forcefully, fighting to stop the overwhelming terror clouding her mind… "officially announced that they intend to overturn the will of the late Alexander Cambias…" _Oh, god, oh fuck, oh, no, no, no, no—_

With a scream of pure, undiluted rage, a veritable siren of fury, Maxie lunged for the phone, actually panting in her effort to get it off the holder and into her hands… letting herself slid down to the table, she punched in the number, one that always remained, because, hey, she was Caroline Malone's girl, damn it, and she was going to get everything she wanted, damn it!


	14. Chapter 14

_**A Love Story**_

14)

Micaela didn't sleep at all that night, couldn't even bear to close her eyes. So she lay there, in her bed, feeling hateful and hurtful and heartless and wanting to curl up and die. Finally, feeling utterly depressed, she forced her way into the bathroom, peeling off her clothes and stepping into the shower, hissing at the heat.

_Okay, apparently, JR brings out the bitch in me… but, god…_ Scrubbing up her hair, furious movements, she contemplated ways to try to fix this. After all, bastard or not, he had given her a place to sleep when her place had tried to bury her. Yet, she knew better than to think she could go up and pat him on the arm and chirp_, "Gee, I'm sorry I attacked you through your dead kid but I feel real bad about it so how 'bout we go get a beer?"_

_Yeah, lovely, perfect, give him reason to throw me down a flight of stairs…_ With a groan, Micaela shook herself, turning to let the water hit her back and shoulders, running fingers through her hair as she considered other ways to apologize. Except that there was nothing she could say, no words because, the simple fact was, his son was laying at the bottom of some river somewhere, his bones broken and nothing she said or did could fix that horrible fact.

By the time she was in one of the massive terry robes, even bigger on her small frame than most people's, she had abandoned all hope of taking back what she had said. Wrapping up her tangled hair in a pink towel, she dropped into the bed, pulling the phone into her lap with a tired groan; holding phone between ear and shoulder, she quickly punched in Amy's number, desperately in need of a friend.

The younger woman picked up her side of the line at the third ring, answering with an inhumanly chipper, "Amy Cohen speaking!"

There was no fricking way Amy was human. No human woke up at four a.m. and fell into bed when she felt like it… without taking coffee on a 24/7 basis through an IV drip. And yet, here she was, psychotically chipper when Micaela wanted to dig her own grave.

Even over the line, Micaela could practically see her at her room in the Pine Cone, sitting at her desk and probably circling ads for apartments. Every spare cent she had went into her "witch jar", which, according to her, would one day create the best shop in Pennsylvania.

Micaela's answer on this morning was simple, although not very sweet. "I hate you and you psychotic chipperness."

Over the line, the only answer was Amy's laugh, which, as usual, ended in a snort and Micaela pinched the phone cord, wrapping it around a finger and studying the way it moved when she did. "What's the matter, Micaela? Didja sleep too long or not long enough?"

"Am I a bitch?"

Complete silence, silence that stretched on and on and… Micaela was nearly about to reach through the phone and strangle her with the cord when she finally sighed mockingly and answered, "Sorry, but that was too easy even for me."

"I'm being serious, Amy."

"Yeah… well, so am I. I'm not gonna sit here and say you're an innocent sweetie when you know better. We both know how nasty you can be, don't we?"

"Yeah, but—" Micaela hesitated, chose her words carefully. "I mean, I usually don't say anything too bad, right? I never said anything to you, right? Nothing too… painful?"

"Would I be talking to you if you had, Micaela?" Though the words were simple, the tone was not. Amy had taken long years of therapy to work through her shit and never put up with any more, not after Owen the wonder uncle… no, not Amy, not ever again. "Micaela what happened to make you go all self-pity?"

"I… I said something… God, Amy… I can't believe I said it… I mean, I know, at least a bit, what he's going through and…"

"Micaela, explain first and then mope… I don't understand… Could I have some help here please?"

"Chandler. JR Chandler? I threw his dead son in his face to piss him off—"

"Micaela… tell me you didn't—"

"I did, I did and all I can do is sit here and feel sorry for myself. It's disgusting, feeling sorry for myself, I mean, he ran out of here like a nut, what if, god forbid, what if he drove off some cliff?"

* * *

When Diana woke, the next morning, he was in the same place he had been the night before, stretched out on the couch. But the plate of food he'd promised to at least pick at lay untouched, sitting on the table. With a grimace, Diana picked it up, carrying it into the kitchen and tossing the old food out the back door.

Retying her robe over her nightgown, she cautiously glanced back in at the sleeping young man. Even in sleep, the lines around his mouth and eyes were there, etched in deep; if she ever got her hands on the person who had given him such an old face… Shaking her head, Diana turned her attention back to the stove, getting down her pan and pulling the pancake mix from the top cupboard.

Whether or not he resisted, she intended to have food waiting for him when he woke up.

Diana Cole usually enjoyed cooking because it gave her time to think; unfortunately, at times like this, it proved to be a double-edged sword and she found herself contemplating the things he'd said after Gina had left and Cady was asleep, sitting together on the couch, sipping tea.

It should have been strange, sitting there with someone she didn't know, except…

From the first moment their eyes had met, when he'd shaken her hand, she knew him, and, every time he caught her eyes… it was like electricity, an almost physical buzz beneath her skin, rooted in her bones, a something that made her blood pulse more strongly… and, even more stranger, was the fact at how natural it felt.

Despite her tries at getting more info from him, he'd refused, growing more and more still and, it was after she'd brushed his arm, that she'd felt the tightness there and she'd stopped her interrogations, letting her conversation wind down and offering him her bed. He'd refused, insisted on taking the couch, and, after a good fifteen minutes of bickering, she'd headed upstairs, making him promise to eat.

"Are you making pancakes?"

Diana raised her head, turned halfway to find herself under the intense gaze of her house-guest, in his slacks and his shirt, hair sticking up in every direction, sleep marks evident across his cheek. He looked ridiculous and she couldn't fight her smile. He smiled back and, rolling up his sleeves, shuffled forward—

_And she was looking down at that little boy, in a pink apron so big that it dragged the ground, and huge cow gloves, no to mention patches of flour across his face, leaving two blue eyes to peer up at her in full pout mode. "Mom… I wanna help… lemme help… come on… I can cook too! Please, Mommy… please lemme, lemme, lemme help… You won't have to call the guys in the big red truck anymore, I promise—_

And JR was standing at her side in the kitchen of the cabin, poking thoughtfully at the bowl of pancake mix, lifting the fork and letting it drip down, grinning childishly. When he caught her look, he cocked an eyebrow, letting out a drawl of, "You think I'm cute as a button, dontcha?"

She spun, choking on her laughter; a glance over her shoulder, catching his smirk, made it even harder and it took nearly a minute to clear away her laughter. When she turned back, he snatched the bowl away from her, shooting her a dirty look, and a grin before shooing her to the right, "I can do this, ya know. I can make pancakes… it's, like, the easiest thing in the world, right?"

At her snort, he began to ladle in the mix and she found herself reminded impeccably of a Parisian artist, even down to the blue eyes narrowed in concentration. Yet, when he stepped back, shooting her a triumphant hiss of "Hah!" she found that had indeed created the perfect pancakes. Still, this was her kitchen and, shooing him away with the spatula, she took back her proud throne.

When she turned back, with the plate perfectly made, including butter, she found herself confronted with an oversized five-year old, slouching down in his seat, looking up at her with a full dose of puppy eyes. Shaking her head, she set the plate in front of him with a laugh of "Straighten up before your back sticks like that."

And, like a good little—what, boy?—he obeyed, pulling the plate closer happily and she stood there, watching and smiling as he devoured her food, probably not even realizing that he had just fallen into her well-laid trap.

* * *

After hours of laying in her bed, tossing and turning, hearing words like "Nadda" and "Harff" in her mind, Kendall finally jumped out of her bed, slipped on her robe and left her home, striding barefoot across the cement to his place. She was surprised for a second to find that the lights were still on in his place, and she hesitated for a moment, before forcing herself forward.

Knocking once, twice sharply, she found the door opened immediately, and she slipped in, her eyes immediately settling on the large table filled with magazines. Words like "Kane" and "Cambias", "Las Vegas" and "Malone" jumped out at her and she felt some of her bravado drain away; realizing how thin her satin nightgown was, she self-consciously shut her robe, wishing it was one of her fluffy ones instead of this thin little thing. Tying it, she turned, watched as Zach, after locking the door, stepped up beside her and she looked away from him nervously.

In a pair of loose pants and a simple gray shirt, he was nonetheless piquing some of her most basic female instincts, which left her feeling irritated and annoyed. Stepping quickly back, she ignored the amused look he gave her as he nodded to the kitchen area. "Want something, Spunky?"

She shook her head, staring as he bent halfway to pick up one magazine and shake it in her direction, hazel eyes glittering in humor as he chuckled quietly under his breath. "'Erica Kane in Oakhaven.' Something I need to know, Kendall?"

Cringing, she rolled her shoulders, ignoring the picture. "My mother has reverted to her natural language of Erica-ese, Zach, nothing more, nothing less. And, no, don't get excited, she's with Jack right now."

"Erica-ese?" he repeated, giving her a mellow stare as he let the paper drop back down; why the Hell did he find this all so damn funny! "Your mother has her own language… why am I not surprised?"

"She'll get over it," Kendall snapped, feeling unnerved by the odd look he was giving her. "And, no, Jack will not come after you… What? What's that look for, mister!"

"What look? This look?" At _her_ look, he sighed, rubbing his face as he lowered himself onto the couch, snorting at the way she flitted away. "Just… stop moving, would you… you're like some demented fairy…flitting here and there and everywhere… do you see this? You're making me rhyme."

"Gee," she drawled, with an extremely incensed air, "Dr. Seuss don't got nothing on you, Zach."

There was that look again, a narrowing of the eyes, a tightening of the jaw and neck, and his gaze once again refused to meet her own; scowling, she stepped forward and kicked slightly at his leg, demanding, "I'm gonna kick that stupid accent back to wherever the Hell it came from if you don't answer me, buddy!"

"Would you—Stop that! Kendall…" With a grunt, he threw out one hand, locking it around one delicate ankle at her next kick; she yelped, but he didn't release her… not even when he stood and she found herself in the painful position of hopping to keep her from falling on her ass.

Sputtering, she threw out a hand, finding herself being pushed backwards out of his apartment; it would have been a ridiculous sight for anybody watching, the odd image of a grown woman being steered by into her own home by the use of her own leg. Groaning, she smacked furiously at his hand as he propelled her in, and, with her startled shriek of "Hey!" she found herself shoved down onto her couch.

Before she could get back up, and beat him to death, he had left, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Harley Jacobs, age 27, was, in many ways, the quintessential showgirl… just not born one.

Harley'd been born yet another blonde, another useless lack of space, but, Frank had hired her, giving in to the edge of desperation in the young woman's voice. No, the only thing that she'd been born with that could help was the eyes… one blue, one green, both equally intense and gorgeous.

Frank had always loved the attention her gaze had gotten and had taken full advantage of it; in less than a month, Frank had hired a consultant, a woman who had yanked around Harley like a new doll, eyes glittering at the potential of the young woman.

Blonde had been too light, brown was too boring, and black… just the suggestion had caused the half-silicon woman to grimace, pinching the bridge of her nose unhappily. But the red… after weeks of running through colors, she'd found it, a perfect shade. Rich, intense red, and, as far as Harley was concerned, it was made for her.

An hour after Maxie had called her, Harley was on a flight to Pennsylvania, listening to her iPod, and ignoring the Chevy Chase movie playing, attempting to figure out how to get done with Maxie's shit and get back to Vegas… lord knew, Vegas had to be exciting than some little town in Pennsylvania, right?

* * *

Micaela, forced to listen to her best friend over the phone, chatting with Pine Valley's very own Derek Frye about if she had heard anything the night before, grew increasingly more worried about Amy. Especially when she realized that Amy the Aimless was no longer at the Pine Cone.

_I should have stayed, should have kept her out of this mess_, she thought darkly, knotting up some of her sheet in her fingers. Amy's a secretary, not some little Supergirl, and what if she gets up the creek?

Finally, Amy came back completely, only to find herself under verbal assault from the older woman. It took a good minute to break Micaela's tirade, achieving it with a series of "zip it"s, and Micaela regretted buying Amy the Austin Powers Special Edition last Christmas—er, Solstice, yeah, witches had Solstice, right?

"Look, I know what I'm doing, okay? Plus, this really nice guy Joe's given me a place to stay while we work together."

"You need to stay safe, Amy, okay? So, just… don't get in over your head… you're not, um, old enough."

"I'm twenty-two, Micaela! I've finished college, and, I'm a damn-good secretary!"

"Oh, yeah," Micaela noted dryly, "Nobody organizes paper-clips like you do. And, as for college, the only reason you've finished college is because you rushed your ass through school… you've got a weird brain, Amy, that the simple truth."

"It's called intelligence, Micaela. You don't have any… and, any you _do_ have is nothing compared to mine," she paraded smugly. "I'm just… brilliant, see?"

"I don't know, I still think you just got a weird brain," Micaela joked lightly, voice teasing and she knew that, over the phone, Joe was probably being gifted with one of Amy's million-watt smiles, which, as far as Micaela was concerned, was the sole reason Amy had been born… to give people that smile.

"So, are you gonna go mope in a vat of mud with cucumbers?"

"I hate your psychic powers," Micaela muttered darkly, getting awarded with another laugh before the young woman left the line… and Micaela headed to the spa.


	15. Chapter 15

_**A Love Story**_

15)

Diana had no idea, in any way, how he'd managed to convince her and Cady to get in the car, but, here she was, being signed in at the front desk. The room around them was pleasantly decorated, in tones of pale blues and greens, with a dash of yellow for a touch of color. The assistant behind the desk, an older woman with gray-streaked hair, took the clipboard back, offering an elegant smile to him.

Diana, as the woman's clear gaze began scanning the papers, glanced over her shoulders at the small girl curled up on the chair; despite the fact that she had been dressed and her mop of hair brushed out, Cady was still out cold. Only a child could sleep like that, honestly.

"You ready for a nice, long day of mud baths and pedicures and stone treatments?" Diana glanced back at grinning JR, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the positively gleeful look on his face. Behind the desk, the woman was stapling some of the papers. At Diana's cocked eyebrow, JR stretched out his hands in a pleading gesture, "Come on, I set this up just for you."

"JR, this is sweet, really, but you didn't need to do this… this is probably so expensive—"

But he was not to be deterred; instead, he, chuckling like some human embodiment of Satan, simply took her arms lightly, wriggling his eyebrows mockingly, "I have enough money, believe me! Besides, you made me pancakes, right? Think of this as a thank you."

"And how much does this thank you cost?"

He just grinned, turned her and began pushing her towards the woman, who had stood and was now regarding JR with a broad grin. "Ah, Ms. Cole, you are a lucky, lucky girl… a complete day-long stay at the spa? We will, of course, be giving you the best treatments… come along."

Diana had one second to let out a squeak of "Hey!" before the woman had grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her forward, dragging her around and behind the desk, through the doorway and out of sight of the chuckling Chandler.

_

* * *

It was a rare moment of quiet in the town of Pine Valley… well, except for the fact that Erica Kane had temporarily gone insane and that, somewhere in Switzerland, JR had found his thought-dead mother and sister, not to mention the fact of the loophole that had been typed up on a single, all-powerful piece of paper._

_Another thing that was going on in Switzerland was the escape attempt of Tad "the Cad" Martin, still bound and gagged on a hotel bed, trying to figure out a way to escape from Dumb and Dumber and serve Adam "BOSS" Chandler a gruesome death. But we will give our full attention to our beloved Cad very shortly… for now, let us turn our attention towards what could be one of the most devious plots of the one and only Erica Kane._

_Well, unless you count the plot that includes the helicopter and the wedding dress… eh, either way, it'll be humorous for us who think it is. So, now, we join our favorite Kane at her home with Jackson Montgomery._

* * *

She almost felt guilty at betraying Jack like this… almost. Yes, this was horrible to do to him, especially with their wedding coming up, but, in the end, Jack was Jack and Kendall… Kendall was her daughter and that was most important. And, so, she had come up with this streak of brilliance… a streak that was sure to end in a divorce between her daughter and that piece of trash from Vegas.

When Jack had gone to get her something to eat, Erica's small hand darted into her bag, searching and digging until her hands found the roll of film, shoved down at the bottom. Smirking triumphantly to herself, she held up the roll before brown eyes, studying it intently.

She was very used to the feel of power and, boy, was this power! Erica sat there, glowing… until Jack came back with a tray; with a soft squeak, she shoved the roll behind her pillow just in time to turn full attention to her fiancé.

She watched, guiltily, as he set out the food, but, nonetheless, she didn't speak up. Not yet, not until Kendall was safe from that creep… no, not until Kendall was safe. Even if it meant she lost Jack forever. Yet, this painful decision didn't stop her from purring in his ear "Tee ka gran, Foofoo?"

It was common knowledge in Pine Valley that Ruth Martin had had a slight crush on MacGyver ever since the show had premiered. And so it was that, at times, Tad Martin could create himself an escape from any known implement of containment… except for handcuffs… he'd missed that episode…

Tad raised his head cautiously, surveyed Dumb and Dumber… hard to tell the difference to be honest. But, nevertheless, there they were, sitting together, playing Poker. Yeah, only crooks of Adam's would play Poker while keeping him held hostage. Looking up, Tad pulled his arms again, once again getting nothing but more pain at his wrists.

With a groan, ignoring the laughter from Dumb and Dumber, he closed his eyes and tried to remember a way to pick a lock by the power of his mind. It was an intriguing idea… except for the fact that, within two point three minutes, he was out cold.

* * *

Maxie, wearing the most expensive dress she had, studied the gate of the airport over both her celebrity magazine and her black glasses; long legs ended in shoes that cost more than most people's monthly earnings. She was slightly disappointed that no one had come up to compliment her new clothes… and the large amount of money they cost.

Her dark hair, now newly laced with pale and dark blonde highlights, hung straight to her shoulders; her eyes, hidden now behind the dark glasses, were the same strong, shocking hazel as Zach's… she was seriously considering contacts at the moment. Today, though, her focus was on the plane in from Vegas.

One heeled foot jerked thoughtfully as she finally closed the magazine and tossed it away, ignoring the murderous the look from the man it hit in the head. Her fingers, now decorated by bands of gold and several diamonds, glittered as she reached up to thoughtfully fiddle with the ends of her hair.

God, how long did it take for Harley to get her shit together and get her ass off the plane! Disgruntled and furious, Maxie leaned forward, studying the slowing trail of people getting off the plane. Just when she was about to charge in and start suing everybody, there came the most irritating red-head to ever strut across a stage.

Snapping to her feet, Maxie strode across the floor, heels clicking a kind of war beat against the tiles. Snatching her glasses off and into her leather bag, she grabbed Harley by the arm, receiving a cuss in return, and took off, practically dragging Harley.

Shoving Harley into the bathroom, and giving the woman in there such a lethal look that she darted away, pale, Maxie finally turned her full gaze to Harley, letting out a hiss of, "How long does it take you to get your ass off the plane, Harley!"

"Oh, for—" With a disgusted snort, and flipping her violent red hair—Jesus, does she know nothing about complexion?—the older woman set her bag down on the sink. "Believe it or not, I was not created just to piss you off, Maxie…"

"Ms. Cambias."

A startled look passed over her face, a widening of her eyes… "What?" she asked softly. "You're kidding right?"

Maxie, however, laughed, dug her glasses out of her bag and put them back on, and peered at Harley over them, a rather nasty glance that made the hair on the red-head's arms stand up in annoyance… and something else. "I don't kid about billions, Harley. Now follow me if you want to keep your job."

* * *

Zach Slater, born as Alexander Cambias Jr. before he'd set up his own death, sat at his desk, staring at a stack of papers he didn't see, trying to figure out something that had been plaguing him for the last day and a half. Most people would think that this "problem" was, actually, wonderful and a blessed gift, not to be given up easily.

Zach, however, sadly, did not see Kendall's apparent caring as a blessed gift… in other words, he was a very confused Casino owner. His always stressed forehead had been working overtime and was beginning to crease his actual skull. Anyone watching him would be rather unnerved at the way he, every couple of minutes, would begun mumbling to himself under his breath.

The good five minutes would invariably to a furious shake of the head and shoulders and a smack of his desk; the smack of his hand against the desk, of course, led to another full minute of mumbling, flexing his hand. He had no idea that, after a good three hours of this nonsense, a woman just outside his room had filled in a good three pages in the small book that held "_Zach Slater and Kendall Hart: An In-depth study on the Art of Romance in the Modern World… Can Love Begin After Marriage?_"

If he had… well, we shouldn't really know what he'd do, our ears may fall off and we wouldn't want that, would we?

Anyway, Zach was, as previously mention, deeply confused. Even though he was a man, he'd had, strangely enough, very few times when he was truly bewildered. It was nerve-wracking and stressful, and, as of right now, all his thoughts were focused on why she could give a damn.

It wasn't, in any way, something he could completely comprehend. Sure, his father had loved him… in a way. Alexander Cambias Senior had cared, just not the way a father was supposed to care. No, while other fathers were taking their sons to baseball games, Alex senior was kicking his son around from continent to continent.

Growing up, he'd dreaded coming home, dreaded to hear the words, over and over again, even if it meant coming home to Michael, his one bright spot in the world of a Cambias heir. Those moments remained, even after years of forceful attacks on them, the strongest memories of his childhood. Those few moments, here and there, of no pressure or need, because, as far as Michael was concerned, his big brother Alex was everything he could possibly need or want.

Now, years later, he still had quite a bit to learn about family dynamics… for one thing, what family dynamics _were_. Oh, sure, he had seen a few examples in Las Vegas, but, still, not enough to make him stop cringing when he heard the words "family" and "love" in the same sentence… it didn't happen like that... not for people like him.

With an irritated scratch of his neck, he finally pushed his chair back from the desk, knowing it was useless to pretend right now. He needed to get past this nonsense, right? After all, Hart, letting herself care about him? With a snort, he decided that was about as believable as the fact that Erica was secretly glad to call him "son".

_That's right, Zach, so get it out of your head, clear it away and stop the crap… it's never going to happen… you're never going to have someone look at you… love you as you are… they can't, can they?_

* * *

"_What did I do?"_

"_What did you do? You got rid of it."_

"_I was hoping you wouldn't notice."_

"_I found the proof in the garage… my baby is gone… I love that golf ball washer. It was like a part of me."_

"_All right! I hated it! It was ugly, it was icky."_

"_How would you like it if I got rid of that stupid pig with a chef's hat on top of the refrigerator?"_

"_You wouldn't dare touch Pierre LePudge!"_

If Dumb and Dumber had been watching him, they would have noticed the slight smile that crossed the near comatose Cad's face… a flash of memory that always came up when he slept like this. Here, there was no accident… here… there was just a stupid pig with a chef's hat…

"_What have you done with Pierre?"_

"_LePudge is sludge."_

Very quietly, in the empty room, Tad chuckled softly in his sleep, remembering the look on her face, the way she'd cocked her hip, tilted her head… the way, afterwards, she'd smelled when she'd tackled him in the kitchen. Much fun had been had in the kitchen, much fun and… well, the night had not been wasted.

* * *

The feel of Cady in his arms was a warm weight, a soft force against his chest and shoulder. Yeah, his back was killing him from carrying her down to the café, but he didn't give a damn at the moment. Now, an hour after leaving his mother at the spa, he was sitting at a table, with Cady, waiting for Gina to arrive.

So far, despite the ache at the base of his spine, his left leg hadn't acted up and, for that, he was pathetically thankful. She sat on his right leg, legs hanging off the side, arms around his neck and face buried in his shoulder, a large stain spreading across his jacket.

She felt like Bess—_Miranda_,_ her name is Miranda and she isn't yours_—in his arms. Heavier, of course, but the way she laid, the way she held him, the sound of the breathing. He raised one hand, set it on her back, felt it rise and fall with each slow breath. Bess would have felt this in two years, would have lain against him like…

"Are you Mr. Chandler?"

JR looked over, cringing inwardly at the young woman standing before him, holding her place with her fingers in a cheap romance novel; she wore what looked like a necklace made of… Jesus Christ, what did a woman who wore paper clips around her neck have the right to do with his sister!

Yet, before he could fire her strange ass, the strange one herself had pulled his Kate out of his arms and flopped her over her shoulder… JR felt suddenly, intensely, cold, a rush of chill that caused his breath to hitch and his insides to ache; it felt like freezing from the inside out.

Struggling to breathe past it, he dug his nails into the table, and went to get to his feet to go after her and get back Kate… and the spasm hit him so hard that his leg lashed out, connecting with the chair. With a ragged grunt of agony, he stumbled back, the knee buckling as he latched both hands onto the table top, letting his weight hit it and slide down to the chair.

It went on and on, his breath coming in short pants, fighting to loosen the muscle around his lungs and fill them with new air… and then it was over. With sweat beading on his forehead and neck, his hands were shaking, his vision slowly clearing past a gray haze of pain.

It had been over a year since he'd been hit like this; he'd gotten past it, worked the muscles back into shape. And he had been okay, better, gotten back to how good he once was. So… why the fuck did this time feel so different?

* * *

Kendall, in a state of deep female depression refused to leave her house since Zach had sent her back to her home by way of foot. In one of her older robes, wearing her pink glitter mask, eating from a half-carton of ice cream, refusing to acknowledge the messages that were made of words like "Nadda" and "harff"… many, many "harff"s.

But when she heard the sharp rapping on the door, her British-meter went off; now excited, she pushed "mute" on the TV, heading to the door. Ethan had barely a second to ask "Did Simone get a new outfit?" before his new best friend launched into his arms, wailing something about crazy mommies and big, mean husbands.

_Okay, no going back to England unless she has her room prepared at Oakhaven_, he decided, patting her back awkwardly.

* * *

Micaela's luck was turning; in the middle of her massage, just as she was beginning to consider running over and falling to her knees, Micaela found herself meeting a fellow Southerner, a lovely woman by the name of Diana Cole. The older woman, with her blonde hair wound up and conditioned, happily responded to Micaela's cautious attempt at conversation.

Soon, the two were happily chatting about the existence of Yankees among them… but for the life of her, Micaela couldn't figure out how their conversation got on children and family… or the lack of one.


	16. Chapter 16

_**A Love Story**_

16)

Adam, in a mood that was a crazy mix of irritation (_stupid Martin_), humor (_stupid Martin got tied to the bed_) and fear (_Brooke's conniptions were like no one else's_), sat before the table of monitors, drumming his fingertips across the smooth wood. His cell phone, loaded with nearly an hour of Brooke's messages, sat nearby, battery removed.

He refused to respond to her nasty remarks… _nasty, horrible things, you'd think we'd never repeatedly been intimate_, he thought absently.

As the young man on the screen sat on the bench, leg carefully raised, Adam considered his current predicament. His original plan, to trap them in an elevator with a romantic dinner would no longer work. Yes, Micaela Kincaide would be perfect for him… as soon as he removed her claws.

So, in light of the disastrous 'collapsing-room-that-ends-in-passionate-needy-sex' plan, he had come up with another. At least Lottie had decided, so far, to stay out of this one… although, remembering her, how long would _that_ last?

Still, even in light of the first failure, you would not find him moping. No, sitting here, pulling the new file from his leather bag at his side, he was even more determined! The file, small compared to most of the ones he'd been fiddling with since she'd hit the town of Pine Valley, was nonetheless filled with many very important facts.

It was indeed a good thing that Vivianne James was loyal to both father and son. She was one of the few brilliant PI's out there not stupid enough to refuse an extra million a week. And she could also get him any file he could possibly want.

Including this brilliant little piece of information. _It'll be fuel to the fire_, he thought excitedly, his eyes devouring the words…

It was an added note, in Vivianne's light scrawl, written across a slip of purple paper, stuck to one of the first papers. A brief tale of a young woman's first attempt at business, shredded utterly by a spiteful, spoiled little brat. Ah, yes, the ever lasting sting of first failure… never forgotten, no matter who the person.

Beneath the handful of sentences lay two words, in capital letters, underlined repeatedly. "GUESS WHO?"

* * *

Brooke was obsessing, and she knew this, but, hey, since Jamie had gone MIA after the Ho With No Name, what else did she have to do? Answer to that will always and forever be to obsess over her ex-husband, after all, he made it so easy for her. Now, at her desk in Tempo, she thought over her choices to take care of her ex-husband's latest plan.

The speed with which he had organized it spoke of a man who had finally decided that enough was enough and intended to do something about it. Brooke, in a simple pantsuit, sat and waited until her next meeting with Livia, in an attempt to solve this nonsense before JR got back and found out about it.

She'd never thought of such a simple twist of words, just to achieve that end. And, good lord, how the hell had the Hart-Slater marriage come to bloom at the same time? God, only in Pine Valley.

Of course, she had another call to make, another person who might have some ability to fix this nonsense. But, well, she was a bit too nervous to call him. At least as of right now, she thought darkly, reaching out to lift up the pile of papers, all possible ways out of this little 'contract'.

She checked her watch, nodding thankfully to find the time finally right. Standing, pulling on her coat, she headed to her car, pulling out her cell phone as she went. Maybe by now, Adam had put back in the battery and would take her like a man.

* * *

"Does he have horses at this ranch of yours?"

The younger woman flashed Diana a grin, eyes sparkling with laughter. "A couple, and yes to your unspoken question: pa does ride, and he enjoys it. I honestly don't know what I'm going to be doing with him when he gets too old to ride."

"Do you ride?" Diana asked in interest, watching as Micaela sat in her tub, scrubbing at her arm with a loofah.

"Well, I _can_, if that's what you mean." She grinned, a few strands of wet hair falling into her eyes and she shook it back, the rose petal-spotted water splashing slightly against the edges of the tub. "He taught me when I was a little girl, but I haven't ridden in a while." Her voice lowered, a slightly annoyed look crinkling her eyes. "Unless you mean a car in which case…"

"What about a car?"

Micaela sighed, setting the loofah on the edge of the tub, giving full attention to the other woman in the tub next to her. "I… have car problems."

"Pardon?"

"What I mean is… see, it isn't that I have anything against the car. I think the car just doesn't like me. Or, you know… _any_ car."

"You… ahem, I'm sorry but you can't drive?"

"Well, no, it isn't that I can't drive… it's that, well, let's say I decide to turn left. Well, my car will go right. Once, I actually hit this old church."

"Heathen!" Before Micaela could finish, Diana let out a peel of laughter, and the water splashed up, sloshing, causing a few petals to stick to her arms and shoulders. "You hit a church! Did the Big Guy send down a lightning bolt?"

"That's really not funny, you know." When the other woman's laughter continued, Micaela shook her head in amusement, finding it oddly comforting. "Either way, I've got enough bad marks on my driving record that I honestly don't know how I'm allowed anywhere near anything with wheels."

With a wheezing noise, Ms. Cole laughed even harder, her head dropping back tub, giggling hysterically.

Micaela shook her head helplessly, trying to fight the laughter, but it was useless. She found herself giggling with the woman. It had been a while since she'd had this much fun with a stranger. "I thought my daughter might grown up to be like you."

"You have a daughter?"

For long moments Diana stared at her, something odd in her gaze before she offered a soft, "Yeah, almost three."

"Oh…" Micaela pushed over, closer to the other tub, popping her arm out to make herself comfortable. "Is she a sweetie or a naughty girl?"

"Um… the jury's still out." She relaxed slightly, leaning back, sighing. "See, what makes me so speechless is the fact that, not even yet three years old, she can wreck a whole house."

"Oh for… you sound like my Pa. He used to go to all these meetings when I was little so had to leave me with nannies."

"I take it you disliked nannies?"

Now Micaela laughed, that rich sound that made Diana smile to herself. Leaning her head back to study the ceiling, brown eyes filled with humor, she chirped, "Dislike is such a weak word, believe me." She closed her eyes, smiling slightly, "I used to come up with all these tricks so that the nannies would call my father back home early…"

"You didn't think he'd come home to you?"

Micaela looked over, braced herself for the dawning realization, the sudden recognition of the name, but there was none, just a soft, sympathetic tenderness. Micaela let herself relax again, raised one hand from the water, studying the pale brown skin. "I think I was… you, know… afraid. Still, my little plans always worked, he'd always rush and try to tell the nanny that I was just an excitable child."

"Why?"

"Oh, come on, it's every child's fear right? That their family will not want them one day. It's nothing." She looked over and the attempt at humor died at Diana's look. Clearing her throat, moving her hand under the water, Micaela sighed, offered a smile. "All I can say is that my mother was no mother. My father finally divorced and kicked her sorry ass out of the street… she just… didn't take it well."

* * *

Maxie, still in her 'welcome' dress, snapped shut the menu, slapping it down on the table. Looking up at the waiter, she bit out, "Get me something worth the price in this place would you, sweetie?" deciding to let him slide on his dirty look, she turned her attention to the 'redhead' looking around in interest.

_I should have brought her new clothes_, she decided, picking at one nail with another, head cocked as she studied the other woman. Harley, with her hair swept back from her face, had ordered herself what amounted to a French piece of beef. Which Maxie was paying for. Jesus, she could have at least worn something more than what she was.

Between the jeans and the sequined top that read "Viva Las Vegas" , she resembled Las Vegas trash. Even those eyes of hers weren't helping. Her denim jacket hung from the back of her chair, her bag laying at her feet, near those dreadful flip-flops of hers. Had she ever really enjoyed being with this woman!

"What is about other people that you find so fascinating, Harley?"

"They just look so bored. You'd think that people who have enough money to come her would have enough money to keep themselves occupied, wouldn't you?" Her grin died away when she saw that Maxie was just sitting and glaring. With a sigh, she sat up straighter, humor leaving her blue/green eyes and leaving her face looking older than it did a few moments before.

"Well, seeing as how I highly doubt that you brought me here to show me your new town, I'll ask the question of 'what the fuck do you want with me?'"

Maxie remained silent while the drinks were passed out, picking at a loose thread in the tablecloth with one finely-manicured nail, watching the light flash off of the pale golden polish. Finally, letting her hand drop to the table, tracing the curve of her knife, she gave attention back to Harley. "I needed someone I can trust, someone who doesn't have any connection to Pine Valley."

"Yeah, that's sweet, but, see, I know you. No, you were never exactly a bitch, but, really, what _is_ this?"

"You really want to know?"

"Jesus Christ, Maxie—" she stopped, calmed herself before gritting out, "Yes, Maxie, I really want to know."

God, the look on Maxine's face… how somebody can feel that much hate and that much humor at the same time was beyond her. But there was a dangerous intelligence that lay beneath all that hate and cruelness… it was Cambias through and through, it was the same something that made a man happily steal another man's beloved, lifetime company and laugh in his face. "Harley… how well can you act?"

* * *

With her blonde hair bouncing, Cady cautiously peeked in, blue eyes settling on the two sleeping big guys. Both looked dumb-dumb, she decided as she grinned to herself, peeking over her shoulder at where she had come. Gina would figure out she was missing soon.

Biting her bottom lip, she pushed open the door, creeping in and immediately spotting, with delight, the tied man on the bed. She nearly bolted when his mouth opened and he snored… really loudly, but managed to stop herself. There he was, the man she'd caught a peek at while passing by the open door earlier that day.

The room wasn't dark, but all three of the people were sleeping. The two dumb-dumbs sitting at the table, sleeping with their heads in their hands while the other man slept on the bed. She looked up at the man on the bed, standing on her tip-toes to peer a him more easily.

Handcuffs.

She headed around the bed, listening to his snores, as her sharp little gaze began searching for the keys. Gina had taught her about keys, taught her that you don't always need one to get into a diary. They weren't on the desk, or on the floor. Tilting her head, she turned, and stopped, her gaze finding the glittering metal on the desk between the two dumb-dumbs.

Beaming, she headed over, reached up and pulled the keys down, grinning happily as she turned and realized that the snoring had stopped. She beamed at him, waving brightly. He just stared, and then he mumbled something around the rag in his mouth.

She ignored him, climbing up onto the bed, and crawled up to inspect the handcuffs. As he laid there, mumbling fiercely, she unlocked his left hand then his right, then calmly handed him the key.

He stared, watching with large eyes as she climbed off the bed; opening the door, she waved once more happily at him before she vanished with a flash of blonde hair and blue dress. And Tad's speechlessness had nothing to do with the gag.

* * *

He had no idea what made him drive there instead of his home. He'd set up to head home and plan for the reopening of the casinos, which would happen in under a week if things went according to plan, though, really, how many things went according to plan in Pine Valley?

But, there he was, leading his Rover through Pine Valley, not even completely aware of his change of plans. No, his thoughts, his attention, his awareness was still on his wife. Wife… such a strange word really. And, besides, what did it mean these days anyway?

It couldn't mean what it used to, not anymore, because, hey, he knew how high the divorce numbers were getting. And no one could deny that Erica Kane probably had a big gold star in the big book of divorces. He read the divorce rates and heard about the affairs and just didn't get it.

Yes, sex could be fun, he knew that, but, really, why pursue it more? Why tie yourself down like that? They'll probably just run off with somebody else in the end, leave you broken and defenseless. Things never lasted, not in the way that mattered.

His arrangement with Kendall was just that, an arrangement. He got back his casinos and a partner in the suit; she got Fusion back before Maxie fully realized how easy it would be to destroy it. This was the deal, the whole point of them running off to Las Vegas and Erica deciding to suffer a mental collapse… which, by the way, seemed a bit too convenient to Zach.

So why the Hell was she now imprinted in the front of his mind? It wasn't like she was anything special; yeah, she was a pretty little thing, especially with those eyes of hers. She was manipulative, possessive, hypocritical, shallow… really, the list went on and on. She was, in the nicest twist of words, a man-eating shrew.

Grimacing, Zach tightened his hold on the steering wheel, turning again, considering that last thought. Yes, maybe that was just a bit hasty… he hadn't known her that long. Sure, he knew the basics… that she liked to eat her ice cream with extra crushed Oreos and that she had nothing against listening to his Opera CD's while traveling to and from an airport.

And let's not forget the fact that she wore an interesting perfume that reminded him of something he couldn't quite remember, that was heavy and tangy and made him want to sniff her neck, which, yeah, her reaction to that would be oh so graceful, right?

It was these new thoughts, thoughts of how she had looked when she'd defended him to Erica that made him recoil slightly. It was an odd feeling, watching as Kendall Hart defended him, a Cambias, to mama Kane. The whole 'warmth in his chest' had been strange, not to mention how much he had enjoyed the news of her breakdown.

Yet, beneath everything, it was the fact that had called to warn him that refused to leave him alone. Why the hell did she give a rat's ass if he got taken down by an overly tall ex-attorney… it made no sense to him, no matter how many times he shifted that little nugget of info around in his mind.

These jumbled little flickers of thought and memory conspired, mixed, mingled to leave him in a rather freaked out sense of mind. He was stunned and startled, therefore, to realize where he was… Myrtle's.

Myrtle Fargate, once again, had proven her skill at knowing the intricacies of his brain. The call he'd received today, consisting of the fact that she was watching Miranda for the day, had clearly been a trick of the elderly woman… and it had worked. Here, he was, in his car, before the boardinghouse. His mind had brought him here, he realized in irritation.

His goddamn unconscious had taken full control and driven him out here… where Miranda waited.

Zach looked out the window, taking in the looming shape of the elderly woman's place; he could practically feel her, through the walls, through the glass and metal and stone, a presence of warmth that reminded Zach painfully of a lighthouse he'd seen, only once, as a boy.

He'd taken a picture of it and that picture, now rubbed soft and dull by a teenager's lonely hands, sat in the back of his wallet, ready when the weight on Zach's back got too heavy. He'd always wanted to go find the lighthouse, study it, see if it still seemed as powerful as it once was…

He had work to do, but, still, she was there, calmly waiting to be held and rocked and, just maybe, that innocence of hers would loosen up his thoughts. With a grimace, he opened his door, stepped out and headed to the boarding house.

* * *

Gina never even realized that she was gone; she turned to find the little girl right where she had left her. Feeling pleased, Gin picked her up, setting her on a hip as she headed to meet up with Diana at the spa._

* * *

AN: Had horrible writer's block on this chapter, the first chapter that i actually had real difficulty with. Big thanks to butch, whoI know from my beloved SOC board... finally posted it!_

_Yes, the talk between Diana and Micaela will become important and, yes, it did happen. But, if I had put the whole thing in now, the whole fic woulda been blown and, believe me, there are things that you guys don't yet know… hehehehehe… I love being devious and bad. I like slowly piecing together my fics, making my brilliant readers show their brilliance._

_Okey-dokey, back to the fic… This was a ball for me to write, how did you like the meeting between Cady and Tad? Yeah… I liked writing it up, and don't forget his whole 'meeting a child he never knew about'… I love that classic soap twist and I love using it! My muse has decided to twist my outline a little but don't worry... nothing big wil change in the long run. grins Anybody else psyched about the recasting of Clint on OLTL! EEEEEE!_

_Know that, probably tomorrow, I'll be posting up the next drabble of 'As You Are', which will connect to this chapter, a short but sweet drabble from Myrtle's little brain. I want reviews people! REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW… THANK YOU!_


	17. Chapter 17

_**A Love Story**_

17)

Antoinette Quartermaine—_who preferred the name Skye_—rolled her shoulders, trying to ignore the newspaper sitting at her side. It was difficult, especially as how the words followed her around all day.

Nasty painful words like "loss" and "mourning"; whispers that swirled through her head with flashes of things she shouldn't see. She shouldn't care really, not like they did, did they? They'd swept her out of the books, out of the all-powerful Chandler family tree… so why the Hell did everything inside her want to hop the first flight home?

_No, not home… not anymore… sure, Stuart probably remembers me but Adam? Not letters, not a gift, not even a fucking call in years… _Skye tapped her spoon against the edge of her coffee mug, legs folded as she forced her eyes to stay on the ceramic cup, focus on the way the black liquid rippled at each tap.

Sure, JR had stopped by… but… really, now? What, he wanted a shoulder to cry on now? Nice how he came running to her when the world got too tough… what was the matter, daddy not gentle enough right now? Skye tossed her mane of dark red hair, catching a flash of the picture, a grainy black and white image.

She focused all the harder on her coffee, trying to breathe past the clog in her throat that grew at unbidden images of her nephew—_not your nephew Skye… not your brother or your father or your uncle_—in the water…

Mike, talking with Sam at the front bar, jerked partly when the cup hit the floor, shattering as it hit, sending hot coffee and sharp shards across the floor. Skye, hair covering her face, jumped out of her chair, sending it crashing to the floor; with a strangled call to Mike that she would pay for it, she fled out into the January cold.

Later, as him and Sam were picking up the pieces, Mike's eyes found the paper, or, at least the remains of it, half-shredded and drenched in coffee. The words of the front page, in bold black letters, read "Chandler Baby, Lost in Storm, is Cause of Widespread Mourning".

* * *

His coat closed tightly, maybe in some superstitious belief that he could hold on to his niece's warmth forever, Zach studied the lit window. It wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. His entire childhood had been him, standing aside warm houses and looking in, wondering if it was a warm as it looked.

"_Why don't you just take a seat, Alexander, relax, this is a family dinner. See, even Michael's here."_

_He studied the small form, sitting in stony silence at the table, the swollen red eyes, the way small shoulders shook in the aftermath of sobs. Alexander knew the way a child sounded when they cried, that way that everything in their body followed the wrenching sobs… only a child cried like that… only Mikey._

He stood and he watched the two sit and enjoy the take-out from some restaurant, Styrofoam dishes and cartons spread across their laps and the table, and, aw Hell, she was a BBC fan? You learn something new everyday… as he watched he sat forward, set his food to the side and headed, ignoring her attempts to stop him, to the kitchen area.

_He turned his gaze from Michael… Mikey, little Mikey my Mikey… to stare at his father's face, something that was cold, emotionless, not supposed to be that way… "Aw, Alexander, you're the spitting image of your father. Aren't you proud?"… no, he wasn't, not when people told him those things… no, those were the times that he wanted to tear his face, tear through the blood and bone that his father had cursed him with._

_Mikey wasn't supposed to be home right now… he should still be with… Alexander froze, feeling a sort of chill creep through him, spreading from his spine outward, spread to chill him further than he was… "Father… Why isn't Michael with our Mother?"_

Zach watched, from outside, as they had fun, ate and bonded and acted human and damn them, why did they get that? Why did they get to do things like that while he had stay back, stay hidden, and destroy any part of his daughter that hadn't been crushed beneath Carline Malone.

"_I brought him home early, so he could be with his Father… Nicolette was happy to let him come home soon."_

_No, she wasn't, he wanted to scream at him, no, she wasn't happy… she hated it, hated letting Mikey go just like she hates you! She hates you and I hate you and we both want you to go away, far away and let us be and let her come home, or let us go see her… he was shaking, trembles running along his skin like wildfire, his vision blurring as he gazed down at the smooth, perfect wood of the dinner table._

Zach twisted suddenly, aware of how much he was shaking, and he prayed that she wouldn't suddenly realize he was there, like some lost child wanting warmth in winter… but why shouldn't she? There was warmth in that gaze, there was softness and calmness and something that made his heart ache… she would offer it to him happily, wouldn't she?

He wished, desperately, that he had Miranda in his arms… she wouldn't push him out, she would open the door and let him sit and… Hands shaking, despite his attempts at control, he fought the lock on his door, finally managing to open it… Kendall should be sitting with him… watching TV with him, laughing with him, her head on his shoulder, softness and fire and enough smething that she would fight for him…

Halfway into his place, he froze, staring at the form that stood in her doorway, staring at him… for a moment there was a something, a something that filled his vision…

_A soft weight at his side, the way her hands would feel on his, fingers laced with his… that scent that hung heavy around her like some heavy smoke… the way her head, her cheek felt on his shoulder…_

They watched each other, like two animals, frozen and still, both awaiting the killing blow from that great beast that would finally destroy what part of them still hoped… time stilled, and he wondered what her heart sounded like when she slept at night, curled at his side like some pampered cat…

Swallowing, aching, he reached out and closed his door, hoping it cut her out of his thoughts. He took those fleeting threads as he caught them, swirls of thoughts of what her laugh sounded like and how the sweep of her neck looked when she fell asleep in the passenger seat of his Rover…

He was good at closing away memories, good at pushing them, into the back, into the darkest recesses of his broken mind… and then, when the aching had stopped and he could breath again, he poured himself a drink with hands that, strangely, still shook. He was good at locking away memories… so why was the sound of her laugh still there, in his mind?

* * *

The Kincaide ranch, situated in Texas, was a home to the surprisingly private Buck Kincaide and his adopted daughter, Micaela.

It was where he had taught her to ride her first horse, a Palomino mare she'd happily called Calamity; it was where she had learned that people in the black hat were bad and, if you were John Wayne, you were always good. And, you must never forget, always circle the wagons when trouble comes calling.

And today, right now, Buck was considering ways to fix the nonsense his little girl had gotten herself into. Hadn't he taught her better than to go around, signing whatever was put in front of her face? Not to be tricked into anything by any man-sized rattlesnakes?

Apparently, it hadn't sunk in completely… at least to judge by the call he'd just received. No, all the call had done was concrete his growing, nagging worry. So, here he was, figuring out the best way to have Adam Chandler strung up by his heels. Goddamn sonofabitch…

Brushing his fingers across the brim of his hat, he picked it up from the table, slid it on and stood, heading around the table to the door of his den. With each step, the certainty grew that this was the best path… of course it was… she was his girl… she wouldn't like this at all but it had to be done.

* * *

Her nails were cleanly buffed and polished, and they were quite beautiful in the mirror as she reached up and slipped the towel off her head. Letting it fall to the floor of the bathroom, she shook out the mass of black hair. When it was mildly tamer, she pulled her jewelry out of her bag.

"_Every cowboy, my girl, has a woman he fights for, through Hell or high water, to get back to safety. Most cowboys have a female friend…" _

"_You mean a bed buddy?"_

"_Please stop saying that, baby… that's so far beneath a girl like you."_

"_Sorry."_

The diamond bracelet was slipped around her wrist, secured with the clip and she moved it back and forth, testing the hold; as she carefully sorted out the ends of the thin chain of her necklace, the light above her flashed off the bracelet in glints of silver. She never used to wear this much jewelry damn it… what had changed?

"_And, for your information, it's not all sex—I mean… ah, hell, you're a Kincaide… it's not all sex for the real cowboys. The real cowboys, the real ones who follow that code of honor—"_

"_You mean the Cowboy Code, right?"_

"_These cutesy names don't really work all that well on cowboys, baby."_

"_Sorry, Pa."_

The necklace, a simple matching piece to the bracelet went on, settled just right before she carefully secured it. She studied it in the light, studied the way it lay between and below her collarbones. Feeling pleased and calmed at having her wits back, she selected her ring, slipping it on one finger.

As she looked down at the ring, loving the way the emerald and silver looked together, she heard, in her mind, the laughter from the night of explanations about what made a cowboy a cowboy… the rules that, once that cowboy found you, you were loved for life…

It was pathetic she was still waiting for her cowboy… she was twenty-five, almost twenty-six… shouldn't she be married with kids? She didn't really want to be one of those women who only decide to have kids after they can't because, hello, kind of defeating the point.

Hmm… maybe she should join a dating service?

* * *

Erica, in an outfit she had brought just for this occasion, sat in the room, picking at one nail with another; dark eyes intent on her "work", she nonetheless looked over her shoulder when the door behind her opened. Smiling slightly, she arched one eyebrow, turned back to the picking of the nail with a comment of "Come on in and sit down, would you?"

The older man obeyed, slinking around her chair, sweeping his coat closed as he did and flopped out in the seat before her. From where he slouched there, shoulders hunched slightly he peered at her owlishly, letting out an unhappy sigh of "What do you want?"

"This is the answer I get to offering you a once-in-a-lifetime job?" She crossed her legs, leaned back in her seat, enjoying how well her black dress looked. "I need someone who I have something on…"

"You don't have that much on…" At her smirk he gave a disgusted sigh, theatrically dropping his head back in hopelessness. "Have I told you lately that I hate you?" he sang softly and it achieved the expected reaction. The air around her small form was practically sizzling when he finally raised his head to peer at her, offering her that damn grin.

"Look, buddy, you and I both know how much I have on you. You and I both know that I would not hesitate a single second to take you down… so you do this, okay? I need someone who's not afraid to get down and dirty to get some information."

"It looks like you have enough proof, Erica."

"All you have to do is go over there, ask a few questions, get a few names… if the answers are what I think they are, I can get my concrete proof, and, by then, he'll be on my side."

"What are you going to do, train this kid like a dog?"

"Why not?" she laughed, flexing her fingers thoughtfully; smiling to herself, she flipped her hair like the model she was, "He's desperate for some maternal attention… and he isn't getting it from Kendall anymore…"

He watched her, watched as she stood, beaming, but stopped her at the door with a short yell of "hey" that made her turn halfway, eyebrows lifting in question. "Aren't you going to tell about the other part of your plan?"

"Certainly," she chirped, nodding happily. "Der Frn Ti Jerlinn Mran Rwecv!" And then, laughing her petite form off, she strutted out of the room, offering a wiggle of fingers before closing the door of the Pine Cone room… and, one room away, with Harley trying on the new clothes, Maxie smiled to herself in glee, face pressed against the door.

_

* * *

There are moments that make us… good moments, bad moments, painful, joyful… the first time you hold your child… the first time you realize, in a nursery, in the dark, with the heavy scent of alcohol and agony on the air, that your reason for existing doesn't exist… these moments leave their mark._

_Even years later, after most of it fades, the marks remain, like grisly scars of time, and they affect how your heart works, how you work, how you walk and talk and breathe… in a courtyard in Pine Valley, such a mark was made upon a man's heart and soul, something with bouncing curls and eyes like winter breath…_

_Now, Tad is storming through a hallway, strange images of a little girl before his eyes as he contemplates death for an enemy… he steps off any elevator, heads off, rubbing wrists that ache… back in the room, the two soon-to-be-fired idiots dream of raises that won't be coming…_

_He remembers the moment on the plane, Brooke's look and the pain there, for him and for his little girl… how she had tried to say the words she didn't want to hear… didn't want to say…_

"_Dixie's sister, she— Lanie called from Paris. She couldn't reach you."_

"_She lost the baby."_

_He ignores odd looks, storming, hating that he was here, just miles away from where his little girl and his Dixie had left him… where his life had started to become the complete and total fuck-up it was now… if he admitted it to himself, he would say that that little girl was in his head, a little girl that looked like what she would have looked…_

"_There was an accident. A car accident. They're not sure exactly what happened."_

"_How bad is she hurt?"_

_Tad turned a corner, and… he grunted when he hit the other form, startled at the force that hit his side and shoulder, and he staggered back, grabbing the nearby table, grimacing…_

_And then, eyes met her form, absorbed the face, caught the startled look in the face in front of his… his heart squeezed painfully, a harsh twist in his chest as he realized that one hand was braced against his arm for balance… that face wasn't hers, right?_

_That face couldn't be hers, couldn't be his Dixie's because… his Dixie was gone, long gone, nothing but memories of pancakes and chicken fingers and a happy bull that had caused her endless hours of laughter at his expense…_

"_The Swiss police think that she lost control, somehow, and— and the car went over the embankment."_

"_No."_

_He denied it, denied how her face looked and how her nervous "pardon me" rang with that familiar twang of Virginia as he stood and watched her… he was able to deny it, standing and hurting and wishing she would leave until his son—not our son, never our son, we'd never do that to our son—was there, pulling her back by an arm, pulling her away from Tad and then…_

_Dixie… his Dixie… the woman who loved him, made him something worthwhile… standing there, being carefully checked out by his son—not our son, Tad, we lost him already—being checked for hurts and aches… and then JR stared at him… and there it was, a broken sort of understanding, a knowledge that, right now, he could reach out and touch his Dixie…_

_Not his son, not anymore… his Dixie…_

* * *

_AN: Have I made anyone cry yet? I didn't want to put in all of this stuff but it was needed, once again, to help how the story progresses. The quotes in the last part came from the episode where Tad was informed of Dixie's "death". Made me cry like a baby, just too much drama._

_Don't forget to review! I need constructive critisism! Give it to me! Gimme, gimme, gimme! Plus, good reviews help me write people! ... hint, hint..._


	18. Chapter 18

_**A Love Story**_

18)

He didn't want this to happen like this, not like this… not like this… but, hey, he was from Pine Valley, right? When was the last time something like this had been easy? Well, technically, should someone coming back to life ever _be_ easy? Maybe not but he was getting sick of it.

He didn't even have time for fury and hurt when he spotted Tad stalking around like some angry bull… yes, there had been the first touches of it... until he realized that she was out here, too, ready to be driven home where he had promised to tell her things. This was why he had been hiding in a corner.

And, no, the leg had nothing to do with it.

He had tried, desperately, to stop the idiot before he trampled her… ignoring the steady ache… the pain that practically screamed for him to stop and sit and not do anything, he stood and took off, threading through people and ignoring how the ache became a stab. His walk had become a run, probably not a pretty looking run considering how he felt as his knee and hip took all the stress he didn't need.

_This was getting too bad, too fast… it shouldn't be affecting him this quickly… this was just wrong…_

It was like a blow to his chest when they finally collided… one man, one woman… it was poetic, he thought as he threw all of his strength into the last few steps… they had always collided together, hadn't they? Of course, they had never cared that he was the one they used when it fell apart… it always fell apart… and always because of _him_…

* * *

One of the first things Joe and Ruth had brought him when they got him was a puzzle… a little box of cardboard pieces that could fit together and made a picture of a dog with blotches of brown and white and a bright red collar. Joe would sit at his side and help him turn the pieces over, comparing them together.

Tad loved those puzzles, loved fitting together the pieces to make a picture… even later, older, he'd have a ball teaching JR and Jamie how to do them… Jamie stopped doing them when he learned the meaning of 'girl' and, for a long time, he'd thought JR had outgrown them.

This felt like a puzzle, he decided, watching, silent and strangely calm as JR attempted to get the woman—_Dixie, Dixie, Dixie_—away and gone…the woman wasn't having it; she kept trying to get around JR, kept trying to get back to Tad. He could see her mouth moving, growing more and more agitated… hands gesturing, trying harder to reach someone… reach him… why was she trying to reach him?

The face wasn't completely right, not completely; there were more lines around the eyes, deeper smile lines but the face itself. The face itself was right. It fit those cheekbones and that jaw and that neck that smelled so right in the middle of the night, as she lay sleeping.

Then that little girl was there, bouncing in front of him; when all he could do was stare down at the whipping champagne colored curls and the big eyes she caught the edges of his coat in small hands and began yanking excitedly, mouth moving… she was beautiful, perfect… _not ours, she's not ours, that's not our Dixie… no, no, never, she'd never have stayed away…_

Tad finally did the only thing he could; he bolted, tearing back the way he had come, shoving aside people and running as far away from them as he could… it was a coward's way and he knew it but it was the only way… flinging himself into the elevator, he pressed the button desperately, shivering and shaking and trying desperately to not think, not care, not remember…

* * *

"Who is that?"

"Nobody," JR snapped, continuing to drag her away from where she and the man had collided. Cady, latched onto her hand, was more excited than Diana had ever seen her, jumping up and down and babbling something that Diana, for the life of her, couldn't decipher… and why did it sound so much like handcuffs?

All the relaxation she'd gotten from her massage was gone now, replaced by something she didn't like, and the things in her head… it felt like someone had emptied a box of puzzle pieces on her head, and she was left scrambling for how to put it together, how to match voices with faces and places…

And she was scrambling to keep up with JR, who was dragging her towards the elevator and… why was he limping?

It was strange, what happened then, how some part of her immediately stilled and zeroed in how he was moving… it felt like when she had lost track of Cady one day at the hospital, how it felt when she realized something could be happening to her baby… it was fear, something that tightened her heart and caused her skin to go cold…

"JR…" he ignored her, continuing to drag her. It didn't hurt, not at all but that look on his face… that hurt her, made her ache in some painful way… it was the look of a caged animal, the look of someone who can't escape from something… Pushing her into the elevator, he bent down and lifted the still squealing Cady and put her into Diana's arms; he handed her a card key and pressed the button with a single bark of "Go there and wait."

* * *

Micaela rolled her shoulders, her skin rubbing against the cloth of her blouse and she looked down at the bag, checking the line of clothes before dropping the flap and zipping it closed. She stepped back from the bed and let the bell hop take the leather luggage; hefting it, he left, heading towards her new suits.

No more of this crap… and, besides, what was she supposed to say when he got back? Yeah, sure, fine, it was the cowardly thing to do but it was easier than trying to apologize…

After returning from the spa, she'd found Collette, standing by the door, with the joyful news that a suite had been opened for her. Needless to say, she'd accepted the offer and gone in to pack what she had pulled out earlier. With the last bell hop headed to the new rooms, she scooped up the copy of _Carrie_ and her bag and stuffed the book into it, letting it hang at her side as she gave the bedroom one last glance.

Stepping out, she stopped by a mirror to check her appearance once more in the mirror. Nodding, she spun and stalked effortlessly out, flipping hair over her shoulder; at the door, she paused to check that it was locked before turning and leaving.

* * *

This was indeed a strange day… With her hand lightly clamped over the squeaking Cady's mouth,Diana stood at the corner of the hall and watched, eyes wide, as Micaela Kincaide left JR Chandler's room… strangely enough, she felt a slight surge of something akin to annoyance as she watched the fellow Southern girl strut away in her heels, showing it all off…

It never occurred to her that these were the stirring of a mother bear.

* * *

Adam would not admit defeat… even though Collette had been brought off and even though Tad Martin had escaped, he refused to admit the fact that this trip was, in essence, a bust. He had a nagging realization that he knew who had paid off Collette, a woman who worked at Tempo and happened to be, although not at this exact moment, his favorite ex-wife.

So, as of right now, Micaela Kincaide was somewhere in some other part of the resort and JR was god knows where and, hello, damn it, where the fuck was Tad!

Adam was not a happy man and the world was always afraid when Adam Chandler was not a happy man… and, in Pine Valley, as he paused in the middle of hanging a painting in the gallery, Stuart Chandler shivered in fear.

* * *

Listening to Erica go and on about New Beginnings in her happy little language for five hours was simply one of the most disturbing things Kendall Hart had ever experienced. But, like the loyal little Kane she was, she stuck it out and made herself suffer through it. Yet, in some ways, she wasn't even focused on it.

Most of her thoughts had been on Zach, their marriage and the ever present problem of their involvement with JR… sitting in her car in front of the Fusion offices, she sifted through her thoughts, thought about how he had looked before, when he'd paused and looked at her…

Kendall wished she had never seen that look, wished that she'd never let herself soften… she wished that she didn't care and didn't understand… only problem was, she did understand and she did care… she knew that look, she knew how that felt, she knew why he'd been standing outside her place and looking in.

Once upon a time, she'd been the one to stand outside and look in, wanting to enter, wanting to have someone invite her in, let her in to their homes and hearts and make her something that was worth caring about… she understood him and that truly frightened her.

It was like some sudden kind of clarity, a sudden surge of true understanding and she suddenly saw him in a new light and it was pissing her off. And it shouldn't be, not really… she'd bonded with him during the elopement, she thought as she started across the street, heels clicking steadily on the cement.

Except… this was different, this was something else entirely. She shouldn't be able to get into his head like that… Kendall sighed, tapping fingertips across her thigh as she stepped out of the elevator and into the offices… and slammed full force into Ryan. Throwing out her hands, not wanting to touch him, she staggered, fighting to retain her balance with his smell now around her like some dark fog.

She nearly screamed when he caught her arms with his hands, balancing her as she stared at him, eyes wide… and, as always, there it was, something raw and painful and all she wanted to do was run back out, get into her car and hide at home… it hurt as bad as it had just a few days before.

"Be careful there, Kendall."

She twisted slightly, trying to get out of his grip, trying to breathe again past the blossoming wound on her soul, something that refused to heal beyond a kind of rot… Ryan was rotting her through… stepping back from him, she watched, arms crossed over her chest as he bent to pick up the bag she'd dropped to the floor.

She snatched it from him, stepping back further and he finally left her alone, walking past her to his own office… and Kendall was left in confusion, with yet more weight on her back now… she headed to her seat, frown on her face, only paying half attention to Simone's excitement about Ethan being back in Pine Valley.

* * *

JR's leg stopped hurting in mid-stride. Or, more precisely, he stopped giving a flying fuck about the pain in mid-stride. It wasn't supposed to happen like this, damn it. It was supposed to be a planned reintroduction, a slow and steady life that she would get back… not her ex-husband, times three, nearly steamrolling her in the middle of another ex-husband's resort.

Still, what if Tad had a stroke?

Just because his kid was dead didn't mean that Tad should suffer without Kate—Cady—his little girl… he shouldn't live with a memorial like JR was… nothing but a name on a piece of stone and a couple of roses every year… no, not even Tad deserved this… he'd left JR in a car, left JR to mourn for his two babies in a nursery completely alone.

But it didn't change the fact that, once upon a time, Tad had given a damn about him… Mom didn't need to know all that happened, didn't need to hear about everything that had happened… it would hurt her too much.

Sighing, JR stopped, eyes settling on the figure sitting on a bench in the middle of the hallway, head down, hands in his hair and even from there he could hear the rough breathing. He could do this, he could… he took a breath, held it, watching and then he started forward, one step, than another, and another.

Turning, he settled at the Martin's side, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes in silent and broken exhaustion… he heard the breathing, he heard the movement of clothe as the other man finally straightened fully, leaning back. And, then, finally, quiet and hoarse and broken in so many ways… "JR… tell me I'm crazy… tell me that isn't my little girl… tell me that isn't my Dixie… our Dixie."

"Tad… do you want me to lie to you?"

A look, an intensity in his gaze as he turned it to his step-son… "JR…"

"I know." JR patted him on the arm, leaned his head back again and studied the ceiling. "I know…"

_

* * *

AN: The good news is that the first three chapters of SBM have been found! I'm currently working a little bit on a one shot David/Greenlee and Ryan/Kendall fic and I'm going through those first chapters to try to clean them up… I'm a multi-tasker at heart and I never even knew it!_


	19. Chapter 19

_**A Love Story**_

19)

Zach had never been such a wonderful sight as he was when he waltzed into the Fusion offices, bearing two bags of Chinese take-out and offering nourishment. And, despite Kendall's best attempts to play casual, he picked up on the shaky air of his wife. Even as she mocked his new coat, he picked up on Lavery's shape, hovering nearby, his eyes on Kendall's form.

He finally got his chance to get her out of the offices by bringing up the fact that he needed her input at the casinos… that was, technically, true. He wanted her there, at his side, even if it just meant her signing papers. She practically dragged him out with her, diving right into the passenger seat of his Rover and buckling herself in.

Leaning over her to set the food at her feet, he caught a hint of her perfume, something different than usual, something that made him think, instantly, of springtime, something light and airy and, leaning back into his seat, he just slightly turned his head, managing to breathe in her scent one last time before sitting back.

Kendall didn't talk the entire ride to the casino, just sat in silence, arms wrapped around herself and staring out her window blankly and damn it, he didn't like when she acted like this. As soon as he stopped the car, she was gone, already heading right into his casino, leaving him to bring in the food.

By the time he got to his office, she was sitting across from his desk, and, spotting him, she snapped, "Tell me you're at least smart enough to have picked up extra fortune cookies."

"Of course." He knew that look in her eyes and he hated it; crossing past her, he set the bags on his desk, pausing for a moment to soothe the violent surge of fury Lavery's look had caused… yes, her and Lavery had been intimate, engaged even, but that gave him no right to look at her like that. He had a right to worry about her, worry about how Lavery treated her… she was his wife, if only in name only.

Turning around, he caught her staring at him; when she caught his glance, she looked away, and he noticed, with an odd feeling in his stomach, that her hands in her lap where twisting the fabric of the dress. Deciding to let her pretend he didn't notice the slight flush of pink in her face, he went back to the food.

By the time he handed Kendall her Styrofoam plate of Chinese, she was calm and composed and, for some reason, Zach was thankful… but when she took the plate, he found to his dismay that her fingers brushed his and, startled, he turned his back on her at the tingle the touch caused.

The two stared at opposite sides of the room and, if he wasn't so confused, Zach would have found it all funny, the two of them, acting like teenagers in a drive-in… it was nonsense… of course it was…

* * *

Cady had fallen asleep in mid-bounce and was currently passed out on the couch… leaving Diana with the chance to figure out what that woman was doing with Mr. Chandler. She didn't know why the sight of the girl irritated her to no end but she knew, for sure, that she had to protect JR from that woman… JR… what a silly name…

She looked up into the closet, above his hanging suits, hands on her hips and contemplating ways to get up there… what she wouldn't do for an extra five inches right now.

Looking around, her eyes fell on the box at the side of the bed, and, sheesh, it was like it was calling her. Kicking off her shoes, she pushed it towards the closet with one foot; when it got there, she cautiously tested a bit of weight on it. Finding it sturdy enough, she stepped up, and instantly spotted the slight line of a box up there, right at the top of the closet.

Getting a hold on it, she tugged and it slid obligingly, until she could get it down and hop down to the floor. There, she studied her treasure, a medium-sized box with a single line of tape across the top, holding it closed… damn… tape. She tilted it, and heard… paper? Paper… why did he have a box of paper?

Another twist and there was something else… a thump, something large… a box in a box? Frowning, she lowered the box, her blue eyes attempting to see through the cardboard. Needless to say, it didn't work and, after several more minutes of contemplation, she pushed the box back up into the closet and pushed the other box back beside the bed, sighing.

The drawer! Kneeling, she yanked the drawer by the bed open, pausing for a moment to consider her finds… pen, planner… planner? She lifted it, testing its weight for a second before taking a seat on the bed and cracked it open, finding almost every page for the next three months completely filled with a tilting, looping script.

Meeting with someone named Kendall for quite a few lunch and breakfasts… needed to go by some gallery for lunch with an uncle… dinner with another uncle and an aunt… she found an intriguing spot on a page in the middle of March, a birthday had been marked and then crossed over repeatedly…

She turned it over and then paused, stilling as she pressed her fingers down harder. Yes, definitely a lump there. She pressed, finding the slight lift beneath the back flap and flipping it to the back, intrigued. Two small rectangles feel out, tumbling into her lap. Setting the planner aside, she shifted attention to the photos, two of them, both apparently well-loved to judge by the slight wear around the edges.

The first was a shot of a baby, dark-haired, dark-eyed, peering at the camera from over the edge of a play yard, grin plastered across her face, one hand stretched out in a gesture that was clear… 'pick me up'… love, pure and simple there, on that face as she stared at her photographer.

But it was the other picture that caused her reaction. She shoved the photos back into the book, dropped the book into the drawer and slammed it shut before leaving the room, slamming the door behind her. She froze there, finding JR watching her, one eyebrow raised. "What are you doing?"

She stared at him, studied the eyes, watched the way he reached down to brush some of Cady's hair from her face and tug the blanket over her up higher. "Um… I was just checking to see if you're bed was made up."

He just stared at her and, finally she looked away, folding arms over her chest shakily. "Who was that man? The one in the lobby?"

"He… he was just someone I used to know… don't even think about him right now, okay? It's too much stress on your heart." When she nodded, he gestured vaguely towards the bedroom. "I can drive you back home in about an hour, okay? Right now, I just want you to stay here and relax, read a book, order some room service."

"JR?"

He paused a few feet from the door, turned with an amused look and a light smile. "Yeah?"

"How did you know about my heart problems?"

"That's complicated… I'll be back in a while okay?" And then he was gone, quietly closing the door behind him and leaving her alone with that picture.

* * *

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and trying to ease the fury coursing through his veins. The door to his office was locked, and before he'd turned away from it he'd checked it. The last thing he needed was Greenlee bursting in, wailing on about how he only had eyes for Kendall.

She always sounded surprised by that, didn't she?

She shouldn't be, not really. They both knew the truth, that, both fortunately and unfortunately, he only had eyes for Kendall. Always had been that way and no marriage was going to change that… even if she had married that bastard. Again, that anger increased, all but buzzing beneath his skin.

_Jesus_… Ryan reached up, rubbing his face and attempting to ease his rage as he kicked absently at his desk. It wasn't supposed to be like this… not after all this time and these last two years he'd been planning… he'd had it all laid out, all planned out, had accounted for every glitch that he had foreseen…

But not this glitch… not this twist… he'd laughed off the rumors, laughed even as he'd felt the clock ticking down. How could she do this? How could she marry him? How could Kendall do this to him!

He opened his eyes, looked down at the paper spread out on his desk, and studied the black and white image of Kendall and Zach. They were standing together, far too close together, and she was grinning at something he was saying. Bastard.

With a groan, he started tearing at the paper, fingers tearing it into pieces that lifted off on small drafts of air and they would probably ruin his suit but why the hell should he care? He could get another suit, but Kendall was one of a kind.

Jumping up, he started tearing even more, throwing shredded pieces away from him and he shook the remains of the paper around, not caring how bad the office was… bastard… he'd had it all planned out! He'd had it set up! How dare that son of a bitch get into this! Growling, Ryan flung what was left away, watching as it hit a wall and then crumbled there at the floor…

Slater… this was his fault… everything came down to Slater… that son of a bitch… groaning, he spun and kicked savagely at the desk, and then kicked it again, harder, wishing it would hit back… Slater… son of a bitch… well, fine, okay, Slater wanted Kendall?

Ryan knew that look on a man's face, knew the way Slater was beginning to stare at Kendall when he thought no one was watching… fine, he wanted Kendall… well, the bastard had to go through Ryan to get her and, as far as Ryan Lavery was concerned, Zach Slater was a dead man.

* * *

Micaela looked up from her book at the second knock, realizing with a twinge of guilt that she'd completely blocked out the first one. Tucking the bookmark back into the pages, she set aside the book, rolling off the bed and heading for the door, tugging her clothes down as she did.

Se had just barely opened the door when he strode right past her, stopping in the middle of the room and turning to face her with a rather blatantly annoyed look. "Gee, come right on in, Mr. Chandler," she chirped, and let the door close, leaning back against it as she stared at him standing there reminding her, once again, of a spoiled child.

"I spent all that time trying to get you a room and, all of a sudden, boom, you get one?"

"There was a cancellation. Buddy. Believe it or not, not everybody is out to get you… even if it feels like it." When all he did was glare more, she sighed, shaking her head tiredly. "Look, I left you alone… and I didn't even come back to ask for extra treatment."

"But I bet you still want a plane ride home, don't you?"

"Well, I wouldn't object if you offered."

"You're a real sweetie, you know that?" At her grin, he gave her an odd look and, then, yes, his lip twitched, just the slightest bit and she felt pleased with herself. He sighed, reached up and rubbed his neck, and she rolled her eyes, wishing he'd just go find himself a masseuse and get himself straightened out right.

"I know I'm a sweetie, and, while I enjoy being reminded of this fact, I get the feeling that wasn't a compliment."

"It wasn't."

"I'm sorry."

"That's really nice of you to say, but it doesn't—"

"Help," she finished softly. "It doesn't help what you feel, nothing I could say could help that… but I'm saying it anyway because… that was just nasty. And I was completely in the wrong. You didn't deserve to be attacked, not like that."

"No, I didn't." He hesitated and then sighed, continuing to work at his neck and she wanted to smack him slightly, maybe smack him into healthiness. "Look, I'll let you hop a ride of the Chandler jet back to Pine Valley, but… just stay out of my way from now on, okay?"

"You got it." she leaned away from the door, stepped aside and reopened it, watching as he headed to it… and picking up, with a flash of interest, the slight limp as he walked past her; leaning against the door, she chirped after him "Take care of yourself, Chandler."

His answer was a slight wave of one hand as he turned a corner.

* * *

He got back to the room to find a bottle of quality Whiskey sitting on his desk with a note that suggested he numb himself down for tonight. If he hadn't recognized JR's familiar scrawl, he'd have known who his mysterious gift-giver was. Yet, right now, he needed some numbing down.

His coat was laid out on the bed and, quietly taking a seat at the desk, Tad calmly, carefully opened the bottle, filled up the glass and easily drank it down, grimacing at the burning in his throat. He poured another, tossed it back and this one made a difference when it came to that hole inside.

"_Heaven help me, I've just forgotten every woman I've ever met."_

Yeah, and it had stayed like that, hadn't it? Through how many divorces and affairs? Snorting, he looked at the clock, rolled his eyes at the time… he could tell the time… he definitely needed more booze. He took another glassful, and this time it was strong enough to make him cough.

"_If you ever told me that you were having my baby, I'd be the happiest man on Earth."_

Oh, yeah, _that_ had gone well! He hadn't taken the stork's visit well and what did she do? She ran off to Switzerland… then she ran off the road! Except, oh, wait… had she actually gone off the road! Ugh… he needed more booze, man. Couldn't JR have brought him a beer hat? He always wanted one of those…

Oh, yeah, definitely more booze!

"_The fact is, I never stopped loving you. Not for one, single, solitary minute."_

Oh, yeah, and he showed that so well, didn't he? Cheating on her… oh, yes, Liza! And Liza was such a doll wasn't she! Eh, she was a vindictive, selfish, nasty bitch… but what else was new? Hmm… maybe he should tell Adam where Colby was… he got his daughter back, maybe Adam should get back his… too bad he could no longer find Colby.

That bitch ran off, leaving Tad to deal with dealing with… who? Tad looked down at his glass, blinked once and then remembered. Liza! That bitch Liza! Oh… that bitch… bitch… standing, holding his booze like a treasured lover, he slowly eased his way towards the bed. He sat on the edge, swallowing painfully, grimacing.

"_Your mother would be so proud of you."_

"_Yeah, but would she be proud of you?"_

Tad shuddered, hiding his head in one hand… shit…

"_Yeah, but would she be proud of you?"_

No, never… she'd never be proud of this… not his Dixie. Tad groaned, stretched out, pulled the pillow over his head… oh god, what was he going to tell her? What was he going to say? What could he say? Oh god…

* * *

He lay on the bed, not sleeping, staring up at the ceiling and feeling so very alone… Mom was gone, back at her home and Cady was with her and, yet again, for another night, he was completely and totally alone. The pain in his back and hips were gone, the pain in his knee was eased… but he still ached.

JR sat up, stood and left the bedroom, leaving his shoes sitting by the bed as he went out to find something to do.

This was usually the time Bess—Miranda—would be up, fussing and wanting an extra hug and cuddle to fall back asleep with… she wasn't here though, not in his arms, murmuring until her eyes closed and her form relaxed against him… he was alone.

The phone rang and, calmly, he answered with a quiet "JR Chandler speaking"…

"JR?"

"Diana?" He was suddenly alert, suddenly awake and, straightening fully, he gave her his full attention. "What do you need? Did something happen?"

"I just… do you have a few hours to talk with me? I really need to talk."

"Um… I'm not sleeping… I'll come right by."

"Good… thanks…"

_

* * *

AN: I wasn't reviews! Give me reviews! Gimme, gimme, gimme! I need them! Give me opinions people! What you like, what you don't completely love! Reviews! Sorry, but I'm a bit starved for reviews this week… I need some extra love!_


	20. Chapter 20

_**A Love Story**_

20)

She took the kettle off the stove, tipping it and pouring a steady stream into the two mugs on the counter nearby. It smelled good already and, with a sigh, Diana set the half-empty kettle to the side, turning away from the steeping mugs to pull honey and cream from the fridge.

No cream in hers, just a good amount of honey and—

"_I want milk."_

"_Honey, I don't have any milk... all I have is this, sweetie."_

_Blue eyes pondered the predicament and it was the only part of him she could see over the edge of the counter. Tussled hair stuck up in different directions, and then, he hopped, and she caught a flash of a confused frown before he was once again defined as just eyes over a table. "That looks like milk, Mom."_

"_But it's not milk."_

"_Can I use it in cereal?"_

"_No! Oh, no, little guy... way too rich for that Sugary Sugars SugarPuffs you eat."_

"_You say that like Sugary Sugars SugarPuffs is bad."_

"_Well, you just know me well, don't ya?"_

"_Can I have some of that in my tea?"_

"_Only a few drops, Junior?"_

"_Okay... okay... only a few drops—_

She stared down at the mug, where his tea seeped quietly, studied the dark liquid and, baffled, poured a liberal amount of the rich cream into the tea, watching in fascination as it bloomed upwards, and swirled softly, cold and hot mingling in some strange dance.

Then the cream was put back in the fridge and she found herself wondering what the hell was going on in her head these days. Well, okay, fine, she knew what was going on in her head... at least tonight. That picture she'd found had finally led to her leaving the bed to call him, to finally get some answers from him.

When she heard the sound of the knock on her door, she quickly headed to the front of the cabin, not even checking before swinging open the door; he got out a quick "what do you need?" before she walked away with a backward "Go sit and I'll bring the tea."

* * *

"You want a ride home?"

Kendall looked up from where she stared down at his hand on the doorknob and suddenly seemed horrified. "What... No! No... I can drive one of those rental cars you always offer me... You said I can use them, right?"

"Of course... I always keep my promises, dear." Dear, such an odd word to flow so smoothly when he spoke to her. Standing there, holding the door open, he waited for her annoyance at the word.

It didn't come. Instead, she continued her flustered insistence that she was fine and didn't need him and that she could drive herself home. With a final mumble not to worry about her, she bolted out of his office, tearing down the hall, past Edie who shot Zach an extremely strange look.

One eyebrow cocked, he watched in amusement as she snapped shut a small black book and shoved it into a drawer with a nervous mumble of "Good afternoon, Mr. Slater."

Women in this town were strange, weren't they? Even wonderfully bright and brilliant women like Edie seemed to have their brain cells dribble away when they enter the town. Strange. Deciding to ignore how easy it would be for Edie to have been listening at his door for the last three hours, he turned, deciding to also ignore the way Edie dragged the strange book right back out.

* * *

"JR?"

He looked up from his intense study of his tea, looking to her like a deer caught in the headlights. Diana sighed, she was getting sick of sighing honestly, and mentally steeled herself with all the strength she could. she set down her untouched tea, and set her hands on her legs. She could do this... she could do this... she was a gown woman... she could do this...

"I want you to answer my questions."

"I'll answer what I can." His voice made her want to cringe. No young man should know how talk that easily, control emotions that easily, spin himself so flawlessly to be whatever could be used as mask, to be able to survive by any means necessary. "I can't tell you everything yet, though. There's some stuff I'm not even sure of yet."

"Fine." Her hands, in her lap, clutched the fabric of her nightgown, probably ruining the satiny quality for life. "So... you've been looking for me?"

"For quite a while." Careful... his voice was careful and controlled and she was reminded of the lion tamer who croons his entertainment softly with whispered words and quiet speaking.

"Why were you looking?"

A moment of silence, a pregnant pause before he murmured, "I was looking on behalf of your family... they were desperate to know if it was possible."

Not the truth, she knew that immediately and, yet, strangely, it wasn't a lie, was it? Meeting the shuttered gaze of the young man before her, she considered her next question carefully... everything about this was careful... had to be careful on this thin ice. "Do they know that you found me yet?"

"Not all of them. I needed to be sure of everything before I go running back and announce that you're alive."

"Smart." She wished that her stomach would stop flipping, wished that she could drink her tea without risking making herself sick. "But you're sure now, right?"

"Without a single doubt."

"How about a DNA test? What if I'm some scam?"

"We'll be doing one to keep a few other members of the family sated but, see, I knew as soon as I saw you."

"You said that you knew me extremely well once."

"Yes."

"I was told that people changed my face, that, after the crash, I had all kinds of damage. Is that... is that a lie, JR?"

He was silent for so long that she wondered if he was even going to answer. But, finally, shifting in his seat and pressing a fist against his other hand, he murmured, "It's a lie. You... you look that same as you did the day you stepped onto that plane. There are a few more lines there, around your eyes, more laugh lines... but you look the same."

"Why would someone do that? Why the hell would someone pretend to change someone's looks?"

"Believe me, if I knew that, they'd be in more pain than you could possibly imagine."

He wasn't lying, and she could it with shocking clarity. He was dangerous. Yet, he was rattlesnake wasn't he? If you knew him well enough, if you got to see that side he hid so carefully, you would be able to hear that steady rattle at your feet and dodge his desperate attempt to make you hurt like he did.

"Why... when did you find out about me? I mean, what changed all of a sudden?"

"Nothing changed, not really. I've had several PI's in Switzerland over the last years, ever since I got my father's company; actually before. He asked me, the first Christmas after, what I really wanted and I told him that I wanted proof. He sent out his best men; when I got the power under my hold, I sent out my own men."

"It sounds like he loves you very much."

Now he laughed a sudden snort of amusement that somehow eased something in her spine. "Yeah... he does. People just don't want to see it, you know? People don't want to admit that love isn't just about flowers and skipping. It's about protecting your offspring. No matter what, everything is about keeping them safe."

"He does love you though."

"Yeah, he really does. Sometimes, it's harder to see but... no, he's been there for the last few months. He, uh, ahem, excuse me, he hasn't left my side."

"A good parent never does."

An odd look, a tilt of the head and he whispered, "Even if they have good reasons, they never should."

"JR..." It was now or never and she had to do this, had to get a real answer out of him. "JR... do I have a son waiting for me at home?"

"Where... where did you get something like that, Diana?"

"I saw a picture of... it was a picture of me and a... a boy."

"Doesn't mean the boy was yours, Diana."

"No, it..." She paused, finally decided to lay it all out on the table; she trusted him and she didn't doubt that he was worthy of her trust. "I've been seeing things... for months. I mean, I always had these flashes you know but these... these were really, really clear and, there's this boy."

"Maybe they don't mean anything." Amazing how well he could use his voice to sound so calm, how there was nothing in his face to read or figure out. But those eyes... those eyes were open for her to read and figure out... and, inside, she already knew the answer. "JR... that boy I see is my son... I know the connection of a mother. The connection I have with Cady? It's just as strong, just as powerful. I'd kill for him, JR. He's just an image in my head and a feeling in my heart but I know that, in single second, I'd kill for him."

"Yeah… a real parent would kill for their child."

"My whole family… that little boy… Cady's father… wait, Cady has a father?"

"Yes… yes, she, well, yeah, of course she has a father… but, yeah, he, uh, I've told him that I found you."

She nodded, standing, and, ignoring his sound of questioning, she left the room, headed to the computer in the corner and got the sheets she'd printed out. As soon as his eyes fell on the pages, he went slightly pale, straightening in his seat. She took a seat, looking down at the pages.

"JR… you work a lot to try to keep your private life private… but, you know, it's amazing how much you can find on poorly designed websites." Taking a deep breath, avoiding his piercing gaze, she started on the highlighted segments.

"'JR Chandler, son of famous business mogul Adam Chandler and Southern born Dixie Cooney, is now mourning the loss of a son, only a day after the child he thought was his own was, in fact, publicly revealed to be the thought-dead Miranda Mona Montgomery. JR Chandler has declined comment and, when we attempted to investigate him further, we met volatile resistance from both Adam Chandler himself and the famous daughter of Erica Kane and Fusion co-owner, Kendall Hart; both proved to be extremely violent.

'Ms. Hart, in fact, managed to get her hands on our camera man, Stan. Stan is currently in stable condition and is not pressing charges, mainly because of recent mysterious warnings from casino owner, Zach Slater.'" She paused, twitched one eyebrow thoughtfully. "There was quite bit information there about their new marriage. Anyway, let's keep going, huh? 'JR Chandler is no stranger to grief, and has been haunted by family tragedies for quite a few years.

'Before this, his mother, Dixie Cooney, who received the 2001 John B. Thorsten Award with world-famous cardiologist, David Hayward (see links for extra pages of his deeds) and was also three time wife to Tad Martin, who has had a hand in everything from talk shows to vineyards was tragically killed in May 2002 in Switzerland when her car went off the road in a storm. No remains were ever found but she is officially recognized as deceased, along with her unborn daughter.

'Before that, his mother and Tad Martin lost their child, legally known as Bess Martin. Coincidently, Bess is also what he called Miranda Mona Montgomery while she was in the care of JR Chandler. It seems that bad karma follows JR Chandler wherever he goes, which begs the question: what did he do in some past life?'" she set the papers down on the table before her, still refusing to meet his eyes. "You know, if I ever meet the sick son-of-a-bitch who wrote that, I'll commit cold-blooded murder."

"Kendall kicked one guy's ass."

"Yeah… I'll have to thank her, huh?"

He was silent then, and, when she finally looked up, she found him with his head leaned back, one forearm covering his eyes. She could hear his breathing, shaky and ragged, in the silence of her home. Upstairs, Cady slept, flopped out on her bed, with her beloved puppy-dog at her side, and, in the morning, she'd get to meet her big brother.

"You're a smart woman."

"Your mother always knows when you're lying, baby." When he looked back, finally, at her, his eyes met hers with something absolutely devastated there, something that clogged her throat, made it hard to breathe. "And I'm your mother, right? You've been searching for some answer for the last three years and you get here and I don't even remember you."

"Tad didn't want you to have her— he didn't want you to have Cady… Kate… you, uh…" His voice cracked and, reaching up, he rubbed his face hard, effectively blocking her ability to read those amazing eyes of his. "You left, came here… everything was going okay… you had it all set up… after she was born, you'd come home… it didn't happen right."

"I get that feeling."

His laughter, short and rough, nonetheless brought a slight smile to her face. Before he could bolt and she had no doubt he desperately wanted to, she stood, inching around the table to settle carefully at his side. She didn't touch him, not yet, just sat there and offered that quiet sort of comfort.

"When did you, uh…"

"I found that picture in the drawer… I saw the boy, I saw you and… as soon as I got back here, I went hunting… I hit gold!"

Another one of those rough, raspy laughs and he let his hand drop, coughing a few times, before glancing over and, oh god, her baby… there were chunks missing, huge gaping maws but he was there, and everything in there that was truly clear came with his face or his grin or his finger paintings or his toys that he'd always left out in the living room.

"Mom?"

"What, baby?"

"I can't sleep… I can't… eat… I stand in a room with people and, it's like… there's no one there… it's too much… I can't do it anymore… I don't want to do it anymore… Bianca got a miracle baby… and now Tad has a miracle baby… what did I do? What did I say? What did I do to deserve this?"

"Oh, no, nothing… you didn't do anything to deserve this… not… not to deserve this."

"I must have done something…"

"Listen to me." When he didn't obey, she grabbed the hand closest to hers, gripped it hard enough to bruise and looked him straight in the eyes. "listen to me… I am here, I'm back… and, this time, I'm never going to leave, not like before… I don't remember everything yet, but… never again. Anybody who… plays like this… hurts you like this… honey, there is only one thing more dangerous and pissed off then the Hart/Chandler tag team… and that, baby, is the Dixie/Adam tag team."

"Um… the tag team?"

"Oh, yes, we even have a fan club." A slight smile, a shake of a head and she smiled right back, eyes shining with tears. "I don't remember a lot but I do remember a few moments talking with your father, a few surfaced moments that always seem to pop up when I get pissed. Believe me, me and your father? Next time someone like this Carey person comes into the picture… Adam will not have the chance to kill her because, see, I'll get her first."

"Oh… you will, huh? See, um… you don't have a bad bone in your body, Mom."

"Maybe not, but, see, that's the point, I'm your mother… if I ever get the chance to get my hands around this ho's throat… she's a dead ho." She squeezed his hand even more tightly, wiped a tear or two away from her face. "Now… do you want some cookies?"

"I uh… I think I need comfort food."

"Then comfort food you will have! Now, come on, and you can even lick the bowl."

"Hmm…" He stood besides her, clearing his throat to loosen the cracking and sighed, amused at her determined face. "it's been a long time since I tasted raw cookie batter."

"Well, then, we've got quite a bit of time to make up for, huh?"

* * *

Kendall would spend the rest of her day at home, cleaning up what was already a clean home; by the time she fell into bed, she should have been exhausted enough to sleep for two days. Yet, she didn't. No, instead of sleeping she lay awake in her bed, completely torn between the way Ryan had looked at her earlier and how his fingers had felt brushing her hips and ass before he left her sight...

Ryan hadn't looked at her like that for months, not since he'd decided to rip her heart in two a la Greenlee Marriage... Now, it was back, that softness and tenderness in his gaze that made that spot he'd always owned of her flare up in absolute agony. Except, Ryan wasn't her only problem, not nearly.

Kendall Hart had flirted since she was a little girl running around the playground in school; she'd perfected it by the age of seventeen. Now, at the age of twenty-nine, she knew the look of interest... the look she was catching from Zach every time he caught sight of her.

She'd been able to blame it on her own many issues—_Ryan was right about how truly fucked-up I am, wasn't he?_—but now she couldn't deny it any more, could she? No, now, as she lay awake, holding her pillow like a lifeline, she admitted, silently, that her husband was actually interested in her.

Why! Why the Hell did Ryan have to chose today to look at her with love in his eyes again! Why did Zach have to choose today to finally slip that mask the slightest bit off, let her peek in more than she was usually allowed? Groaning, Kendall rolled over, pulling her pillow over her head... and screamed in sheer and utter frustration.

* * *

"Boss?"

Zach looked up from desk, blinked calmly up at Edie, who stood, looking stunned, in brand new clothes… oh, yeah, she'd probably changed her clothes when she went home last night. "Yes, Edie?"

"Were you here since last night, boss?

"Uh," he started lamely, clearing his throat and reaching up to absently tug the tie that hung limply around his neck; his jacket lay over his chair in a folded lump and the cuffs of his shirt were opened and rolled up. Grimacing at the feel of the stubble on his chin—need to shave, Zach-boy—he mumbled, "I got busy, decided to do some extra work while I had the time."

"You've been doing work on an empty desk, boss?"

"Yes!" he snapped, rather defensively and she smirked quietly to herself, eagerly awaiting the next couple of chapters in her research. "Look, Edie, why are you here so early anyway?"

Setting the folder down, she walked around the fine hardwood desk, reached up over the windows and tugged open the blinds; he grunted at the sharp flood of light to hit his vision and recoiled, reminding her of some beastly monster of the night, and, wow, had he just hissed?

"It's not that early, boss. It's nearly eleven in the morning, boss."

"You're just fucking with me, aren't you?"

She just stared at him, one eyebrow cocked and, with a cringe, he looked away; Edie was indeed a powerful woman in his life… even if there were only a few right now. "Okay, Edie, okay, I'll go home."

"Well, before you do, you should give your wife the happy news."

"Happy news?" he muttered, busy at work with wrestling his tie and cuffs into order. However, when her next words sank in, he paused for a second or two, wondering if he'd heard correctly, before asking her to repeat herself.

"The grand opening of the casinos? I just got the final word… it'll be next week, like you said. I just said that you should pick out your wife a sexy little something."

"I thought you said—" He stopped himself, quickly looked away from that truly disturbing something in Edie's dark eyes and decided that he'd heard her wrong. Yeah, he'd heard her wrong… of course he had. She couldn't have just said "you wife is wearing a little sexy something"… everything Kendall wore was strangely sexy to him… but maybe that was because he was celibate these days… yeah, he just…

"I'll uh… ahem; I'll tell her before I go home to take a nap. She can go and pick out something…" he froze at her laughter-choked next comment, spun, absolutely livid. "Now, Edie, that is wrong to say!"

"Oh for… you need to clean your ears, Mr. Slater… I said that your wife has very good taste."

"Oh." He was silent then, with a frown, he reached up and tugged at his ear, shaking his head. "I… I must have heard you wrong. I apologize, Edie."

Where the hell had that come from! How the hell had he heard "wonder how she tastes?" in Edie's innocent comment? He picked up his jacket, folded it over his arm and quickly fled, deciding to get his ears checked later. As soon as the door closed, Edie snapped open her study, and started jotting down the latest results of her experiment.

* * *

She never should have had them out, especially not then, especially not after the call from Edie just a few minutes before.

It had been like a nightmare, coming out and stumbling on one of her fucking rugs, and all of the pictures had flown up… he shouldn't have seen them, damn it… nobody knew about those few pictures she had of her and Ryan before everything had gone to Hell in a hand basket.

He'd let her go, left her to balance alone as he looked down at the glossy images of her and Ryan together… his next words had been a calm, almost frozen order to find herself some nice dress for the grand opening before snarking that, if she loved the photos so much she shouldn't let spend so much time on the floor… and then he'd been gone, slamming her door behind himself.

By the time she got her legs working and managed to get the door back open and get herself out, his place was closed off, the windows closed and the door doubtless locked against her and her pathetic attempts at apology. Kendall took the chance, darted across and found herself freezing again, staring at the ominous shape between them.

She pressed a hand against it, hesitated… taking a chance, she reached down, grasped the doorknob… and, on the other side of the door, she heard the quiet click of the lock… it was just a noise, just a barely discernable noise in the morning air… and yet she flinched back, cringing as if slapped and, with one final look at the locked place where he was hiding, she closed herself up also, locking her door and closing her blinds and deciding that she wished that it hadn't happened.

Looking down, she found herself staring at the photo and of her and Ryan beneath one of her fine shoes, one of her beloved memories of her and him decorating for Christmas… it was just a Polaroid, a little picture of her and Ryan… how could it could so easily ruin her future?

_

* * *

AN: You didn't think I'd let Zen get to it that easily did you? Anyway, I am very proud of this Kendall/Zach interaction and how many little twists it's going to put into their story… remember though, this is Zen, so don't be afraid, we'll have some happy endings, like I've said multiple times before._

_When it comes to the JR/Dixie scenes, I truly want feedback for that. Tell me if I didn't hit the right notes for other people. Did I make you hurt for both of them? If I didn't get it, give me some info, huh? I was a mess writing it, LOL, tears streaming down my cheeks as I typed it… I'm proud of this chapter, what do you people think of it?_

_This is my longest chapter ever! I don't know why I'm so proud of this fact, but I am!_


	21. Chapter 21

_**A Love Story**_

21)

Kendall Hart-Slater was in hiding from her husband… still, he'd decided to be all hide-y first, damn it! Since the Incident—_this was what Kendall had named it as she'd stormed through her home, swearing, trying to keep from crying at her stupidity_—he'd closed himself off. And, very suddenly, Kendall found herself shoved right back out of her understanding of him.

She hadn't realized, completely, how much of him he'd let slip forward since the marriage, how much of his humor and amusement had been willingly open to her and her gaze… how much of himself had been opened to her. But, now, she was beginning to get just how much.

She'd managed to get a hold of him when he'd left for work before dawn the next morning. After a whole night of waiting for the unmistakable sound of his door being opened, she'd heard it and torn out after him; when he'd walked right past, she'd latched an arm around his, tried pulling him back.

He was completely closed off and she suddenly cold; not physically—_although she did feel rather chilled out in the biting early air_—but in some deeper, more painful way. Somewhere deep down in her bones and blood, tainting the way she felt in everything. It felt like she was cut off from something, like some fragile, sacred link had been snapped.

Now, with her bare feet sticking to the frozen cement, she kept her hand on his arm, staring at his face and trying to find his gaze. It was there but there was nothing soft and sweet in his hazel eyes… his gaze, calm, was just that, cool, emotionless… unfeeling… Kendall's hold, tight, loosened slightly at the painful sight of that kind of nothingness.

She'd seen it before, that unfeeling nothingness… he still regarded many people in town with that emotionless stare of strength and, if they were stupid enough, they found themselves awarded, if they looked deep enough, with pure and simple disgust… he was a man who saw you, saw even those parts of you that you didn't want seen by others.

Zach had taken it away, Kendall realized with an abrupt clarity. She hadn't even become conscious of it but he'd decided she was worthy of something other of nothing at some point between Vegas and the Incident… now, once again, she found herself regarded with a carefully constructed Poker face.

The words she'd selected over the last hours, words to sooth his male pride and wounded heart, fell away and her mouth worked silently, searching for more… but there were none. Nothing there, nothing for her to say… nothing she could say… she stared down at the hand she had on his arm, at the fingers latched onto fabric.

Even through the coat and jacket and shirt, she could feel the muscles of his arm, tight. It was absurd, especially right now, but Kendall found herself thinking back to some of the words exchanged in Las Vegas, the time before their elopement… she wondered how many different job he had done…

Zach said that he'd done all kinds of work before settling in Vegas, said that he'd been to Australia andTahoe and god only knew where else… well, Zach knew all the places he'd been to, didn't he? Would he ever tell her? Very suddenly, with a very large amount of need, she wanted to know about him. She wanted him to tell her things about life before Vegas… maybe even before he'd left?

This thought, a thought that came to her as she felt his gaze on her tangled curls, came with another, more intense, more powerful and far more frightening thought… it might not have struck other women the same way but the reality that Zach Slater, her husband, was a man was like getting hit with a sledgehammer between the eyes.

He was a man… as in… man…

Zach had piqued her interest before but that, no matter how irritating, was natural; she was a woman and he was a man and it was completely natural for her to notice that and appreciate it… maybe even react to it if she'd ever wanted to. This, however, was very much a different understanding.

This was shaper, clearer and extremely strange for her to experience in the middle of January in her wrinkled up dress from last night and with her legs beginning to quiver from the cold… or was it the cold? It was an unexpected, shocking understanding that he was a man and that, in so many ways, he belonged to her. It sounded silly, even to her, but it was true.

Yet, even for the sake of jealousy, her mind couldn't comprehend anything other than the fact that Zach Slater was a man… it was stupid, how much this little nugget of truth was affecting her but she couldn't help it… couldn't fight it… and besides, damn it, didn't that ring on his finger mean a connection to her?

Her eyes finally tore from her hand on his arm, met his eyes… it was just a second, just a fraction of a heartbeat but it was there, a ghost of something that no one else would have picked up. She did… she caught it, caught the crack in the perfect mask he wore… he had a good Poker face… but he was teaching her how to play Poker, teaching her how to play Texas Hold'em and Blackjack, teaching her to shuffle.

She read him… she read him as easily as he read her when she tried to beat him, read him the way he read everybody else… little catches of him and what he gave away before he could stop himself… it was a wonderful, beautiful feeling… at least for the split second before she got all.

Hunger, want, need… desperation for her… and then there was something else. Underlying all that want he had, underlying how much he wanted her, right now, there was something else… and that right there scared the living hell out of her. And, like the bright woman she was, Kendall bolted.

Releasing her hold on him, she stepped back, darted away from him, standing in the still dark courtyard… strange, how much could be said without words, how much could be communicated without sound between two people. Now, standing there, watching each other with wariness, they shared a powerful understanding.

He wanted her, wanted her very, very much and she knew that he wanted her and she also knew that his want had more to it than just lust for a woman… she knew lust and, more than that, she knew what a look of love meant… knew how dangerous and painful it was.

She turned away, averting her face from him and he finally bolted, striding past her and leaving her to wait like the coward she was. Still, even after he was gone, she found that her ability to breathe had been seriously hampered by her little discovery. Damn it, why the hell did he have to love her!

* * *

He woke to the smell of eggs, woke to the smell of sausage and cheese and coffee… oh, more than anything else, he woke to coffee. His Cooney side responded to things like pancakes and eggs and ham, but, sadly, his Cooney instincts had been the first thing he'd attacked after his eyes had been opened to Babe. They had betrayed him, left him open to her pretty smiles and sparkling eyes and, oh, how they'd paid for that betrayal.

His Chandler side, in so much control for the past year, responded to one simple thing when they awoke from their status as a sleeping dragon within even the most peaceful Chandler. Even Stuart, sweet, gentle lovable Stuart proved to be a right bastard until he got his coffee… then all was right with the world and back to painting and baking he would go with a bright smile and happy eyes.

Now, JR woke to coffee, as previously stated. From his place in what felt like a toaster oven, he opened his eyes cautiously, and, moving for a few minutes, found himself burrowed in what had to be a pile of heated blankets… honestly, he felt like any minute he would pop his head out of his nest and start dancing to "I'm all right".

His clothes stuck to his form with sweat and he would need to gargle with acid before he talked to anyone but he found that he hadn't felt this good in months… almost since he could remember. Even his happiest moments with Bess had been tinged with the ever-present fear for her safety and a growing desperation to make the walls stop closing in.

Hoping that the gopher music wouldn't start, he peeked out with one eye… too bright, yes, but not a bad sight really. Sunshine, softened through hazy curtains, fell on his cocoon of warmth and, managing to look past the golden light, JR searched the room. He had to get out of here, had to get cool air in his lungs and, yet, he didn't really want to. So what if he was baking? At least it was a nice way to go.

His Cooney side would have rolled over but, finally, the scent of coffee—_and his Chandler half's response to it—_proved to be too much for him. With a quiet, defeated groan of annoyance, he rolled the other way, studying the door that stood so very far away… hey, wait… who said he had to be cold, anyway?

He hadn't done it in years, not since that last Christmas before she left but he did it now. Worming his way off of the bed, he managed to keep his blankets tight around him as he took tiny steps toward the door… yeah… who said he had to be cold now! It was with a superior snort of triumph that he reached out and, using an edge of the blanket, managed to turn the knob without his hand freezing at the cold metal.

JR Chandler resembled a hornet's nest as he headed down the hallway towards the bathroom. Getting into the bathroom without losing his blankets proved to be feat but he managed it, slamming the door shut with a quiet "hah!" under his breath… nobody kept a Chandler from what he wanted damn it!

Well… except for his mother.

He found himself staring down at the sink and at the pile of clothes there, including the note written with that familiar curly hand-writing… _"JR—after you change, go put the blankets back on the bed and make the bed. This does not mean toss the covers down. This means, as you and Cady so mockingly mock me, moving around the bed stuff to make it look decent. Do this and you have coffee waiting."_

Dixie martin was too smart for her son's good… and, apparently, for Cady's own good. Still, he had to admit defeat. And, as baffled as he was at how she could possibly have clothes for him, he wanted coffee more than he wanted heat. Nevertheless, actually letting the wrappings drop proved to be a battle of wills… his wills. Finally, though, he managed and, deciding that she didn't need any hot water, promptly began to steam himself in the shower.

As ordered, he made the bed and only then, with the gopher song running through his head, he got to the kitchen, finding himself greeted by the sight of Cady unhappily picking at the remains of her bagel… so, Mom still insisted that her kids had at least one bagel a week. Cady offered him a longing hopeful look but he shook his head with a grin and, unhappily, she took a bite of the thing, scowling.

"You slept like a log."

He looked up from his happily appraisal of Cady, met his mother's gaze and she smirked slightly, nodding upwards. "You? You fell into the bed and were asleep before you actually even hit the bed."

"Yeah…" He paused, glanced back at Cady, who was attempting to get the dog to eat it; he apparently didn't like wheat bagels and continued to stretch up and put it back on her plate. It was such an amusing sight, the two trying to make each other eat it because they sure didn't want to. "Yeah. I haven't been sleeping well."

"Well… as I said before you started to fall asleep on you cookie crumbs, I mean to fix that. Anyway, here," she said and handed him a mug roughly the size of a cauldron, with enough cream and sugar in it to cause sugar shock. Still, coffee was coffee and he took a gulp, ignoring the way it scalded his tongue and throat.

Taking a seat at the table, he watched silently as the dog finally had enough and carried the shredded bagel to his food bowl… and dropped it with a soft yet annoyed _whuff_ of sound, before trotting out of the kitchen. Cady's hopes that, by some miracle, her mother wouldn't notice the little battle that had just ended, was stopped at the door by her mother's chirp of "You'll have extra green beans for breakfast."

It was with loud stomping that she stalked away, heading after her pet with annoyed huffing… once again, JR was left with thoughts of Bess… would that have been her, three years from now, huffing and stomping as she tried to not eat the stuff he'd picked out for her? Would that have been his son?

He heard her move, watched as she reached past him to take Cady's plate and clean it… it was so perfect, the sight of her moving around the kitchen. It wasn't the right kitchen, it wasn't the one he remembered but she was the right one… any food remains were swept off and the plate itself was set into a stack.

He watched, silently, as she settled into the seat beside his, smotthing her blouse as she watched him with the beautful eyes he saw every time he looked in the mirror... she needed her necklace, she needed that star back there where it should be. He'd put it back soon, fasten the chain back around her neck. But, for now... "How... ahem, how much do you remember?"

"Um..." She laughed nervously, ran fingers through curls. "I know everything about you is clear. It's just crystal, you know? I've got, just, years of memories with you. And they're all perfectly clear, just... perfect."

He took another sip of coffee, swallowed it carefully, savoring the taste of how she made coffee. He'd started wanting to drink coffee at the tender age of 12 and, while Tad and Jamie had giggled like the nitwits they were, Dixie's great Cortlandt brain cells had gone into overdrive. He got his coffee, but after all the milk she put into the mug, all he got was about a third of a cupful, always decaff. They had both won. "What do you remember about all the rest of them? What do you remember about Tad and... and my Dad?"

"Little things... little flashes of moments. Same with Adam... although most of my moments with him seem to have more to do with fighting over you than the love and devotion memories I have with Tad." She frowned, cocked her head in an amused look as she picked threads of the table clothe. "Although I also have disturbing memories of trying to protect you from a pack of wild Dobermans."

He set down his coffee, awarding his mother with a sharp laugh. "The Dobermans? Oh, Mom... you remember that? You had no reason to freak like you did! Uncle Palmer always keeps his dogs well-fed and they are the most well-trained and sweetest animals alive!"

"Yeah... well, all i saw when I came in was you sitting in the middle of a pack of wild dogs that were slavering over you and uncle Palmer was yelling that you were a natural and I just panicked!" When he continued to laugh, she crossed her arms over her chest with an irritated sigh. "So glad you're getting enjoyment out of this, honey!"

"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat, resting his head in his palm. "Really, it's just. It was very fun back then and it's even more funny now. The look on your face while uncle Palmer insisted that I was a natural... he even had me brand new leashes and everything... I think he's afraid Petey doesn't have enough Cortlandt in him. I think he's grooming me as an Heir."

"Oh, Lord, you going around with Dobermans, cornering people who irritate you..." She covered her face, flushing. "I can see it so easily!"

"I don't know... I'm proud to be considered as the next generation of Cortlandt royalty! It's falttering."

She just snorted and he smiled, taking a sip of his coffee again. "What do we do now? I mean, where do we go from here?"

"How about home?"

_

* * *

AN: I get a feeling that a few people are afraid that, in my fic, Babe the Saint will be getting off Scott-free. This is simply untrue. I am sure I am not the only one who felt betrayed by how the Baby-swappers got off with a few hours of mopping while JR has to still put up with their holier than thou attitudes. This will NOT happen in this fic! I have a lot of the big reveal written out in a notebook and it was, in fact, the first part of this fic that I came up with. The entire Chandler family will be uniting to get back JR's son and there will quite a few surprising alliances in the big reveal! I really think most of the readers will enjoy. The line between JR's real family and the one who left him to go chase and protect Saint Babe will be pretty clearly drawn and, while it won't be happening any time soon, I don't want anybody to think it isn't coming! Okay, anyway, thanks ever so for the feedback from the last chapter! My computer's been acting kind of schitzo, so there might even more grammatical errors than usual... sorry!_


	22. Chapter 22

A Love Story 

22)

Tad, wearing glasses and the clothes from last night, sat wishing he could die. Years ago, he could have handled a hang-over like this easily but these days? God, he felt old. He raised his eyes from the floor, studied Vivianne James through squinting eyes. Deep in conversation with Adam Chandler, she nodded, long blonde rippling at the movement.

In the mid-morning lull of the hotel, private investigator and multi-billionaire compared notes. And Tad Martin really couldn't give a damn right now, not with the way his head pounded and his heart ached. He reached up, pressed fingers against his temples, trying to ease the pressure inside his skull.

He was dully aware of when she finally took something from Adam and he could hear what sounded like a jingle of keys even from way over here. Hooking the jingling objects onto her belt, she reached into the inside of her jacket and withdrew a slim piece of paper, pale yellow in color.

In return, she received a long envelope, definitely thicker than a usual letter. She took it with a broad grin, opening it and slipping fingers in, and, of course, Tad found himself watching her count through pristine green bills. Stupid Adam with his stupid bribing and his stupid new money.

Closing the envelope, laughing, Blondie hid the money-filled envelope away, smoothing hands down her denim-clad thighs. They laughed together and Tad sorely regretted taking Ms. James up on her request for him to join her downstairs. Never should have believed her offer of a free flight home.

They shared one more laugh before she left Adam and headed towards him where he sat in his hangover. When she flopped harshly down beside him, he grunted, closing his eyes at the lurch of his stomach at the movement. She just snorted, leaning back and looking pleased with herself as she inspected her nails. "Have you had any hair of the dog, Martin?"

His only answer was a low groan, a violent shudder.

"And here I thought you were once this legendary party guy."

"Was. Was a legendary party guy, Blondie."

A huff of irritation, another snort of amusement. "You have something against blondes, Martin? I mean, that wife you remarry every few years is blonde, right?" He didn't even respond to that, doing nothing but shaking his head bitterly, hunching his shoulders against her cruel words.

"You're very dramatic, you know that?" He ignored her and, smirking, she slapped her hands down on her thighs, chuckling. "Do you know why Mr. Chandler sent me to pick you up this morning?" He still didn't answer and she resisted the urge to strangle it out of him. "He says that he's worried about your ability to get yourself home, so he brought you a very nice ticket and I am supposed to accompany you back to Pine Valley."

"Pine Valley?" He looked up, over at her, brow creasing in confusion. "Pine Valley? You mean… I mean, he's going back too, right? Back to Pennsylvania with Dixie and the… the little girl."

"To quote a valley-girl, Mr. Martin… 'duh'. He'll be taking his mother home on the Chandler family jet and I'm here to take care of you and any issues that might arise."

"And what did Adam pay you to do? Throw me out of the plane?"

She snorted, choked on sudden laughter at the simple fury in his face, the hardness of his tone. "Believe me, Mr. Martin. If Adam Chandler really wanted to get rid of you for good, he'd do it. He has men who would take care of you for free, who owe him. No, he wants me to keep my eyes on you, keep you out of his son's business."

"JR's my son too, Blondie."

"Aw." She pressed her lips together, gave him a playful look with large eyes. "Your feelings and your loyalty to my boss are quite well known, Mr. Martin. I mean, really, choosing Krystal with a K over your beloved wife's son? Believe me, you don't fool Mr. Chandler, not for a single second. Although, by my boss being evil because he's a Chandler? I just gotta ask, really. If he's evil cause he's a Chandler, what does that make you as Ryan Gardner's baby boy?"

It was like a slap in the face and he looked away from her all-too knowing smirk, her laughing eyes. Jesus, what else did she know? Maybe he said it out loud or maybe she was just a really good PI because she laughed, moving around beside him like a hyper-puppy. "I am Mr. Chandler's favorite business tool. I have done some very good work for his company and then I have stayed here loyally for years, obediently keeping my eyes peeled for any signs of his mother or sister. Do you have any idea the kind of stuff he'll tell someone he really trusts? I mean, I'm talking real philosophical shit here, buddy."

"That's wonderful."

"Yeah." She leaned over, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Yeah, so is the fortune that I now have to my name, believe me. You know, Mr. Chandler is a real sucker for loyalty. Both of them, although the old one hides it better."

"What? Are you after their money, is that what this is about?"

"Please. The money's great, and it's so much fun to count when you're all clean and cool from a nice long shower but, see, the real plus I get from how much work I do for both these men? I have connections. Both of them have so many fucking connections, it's almost scary. And, now, after years of loyal work, I have all kinds of nice connections too. Really nice connections that give me all sorts of info on your family."

"You're a piece of shit."

She stood, straightening her clothes with a broad grin and a wink down at him. "Maybe, but I am a trusted, extremely well-connected, very well paid piece of shit so, really, who gives a damn?" At his look, she laughed again, shaking her head. "Come on, Mr. Martin. I want to have you home when my boss wants you home."

"And when would that be?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

* * *

Watching this was one of the first things, in a long time, that she could really truly enjoy. Book forgotten in her lap, she sat in the chair, eyes on the two sitting and playing with blocks, stacking themselves palaces, naming their palaces and then knocking them down to start again.

With Jinxie at her feet, she savored the sight that would end in a few hours when he left to get his bags packed at the hotel. God, it was wonderful and everything she wanted and she hoped it never ended. And, more than anything else, she hoped and prayed that it would go on even when he got her back home.

JR stacked, and, boom, there was Cady, crashing her small form into the building and making blocks blow outwards, bouncing across the floor and then they leaned forward, identical grins on their faces and began pulling the wreckage back into a pile and got back to work, restacking and organizing.

She had decided, as JR and Cady had first begun their game, that this was the only way to do this. Pack up and leave and go home. The cabin, well away from the usual traffic, had been their house for years but, no, it wasn't home, never really had been, had it? Even in the brightest moments, it hadn't been right, hadn't felt safe as it was supposed to feel.

So how was she going to get Cady out of here and back in a new environment? Plus, the whole huge family suddenly waiting on her hand and foot? Lord, Cady would be spoiled rotten in under a week… and JR was already getting the ball rolling when it came to spoiling, as evidenced by his actions since he'd tracked her down and started the game.

So, what she supposed to say to her? Explain this all to her? Happily tell her that she suddenly had enough aunts, uncles, grandparents and family to terrify most of the other strangely tangled families of Pine valley. Yet, it was the thought of how Joe would treat her that made her smile slightly.

Dixie pressed her lips against the book watching as, once again, Cady went tearing through the blocks with all the strength and power of an excited three-year old.

* * *

"And you're sure about this, completely sure?"

She heard his snort over the speaker phone and then something that sounded suspiciously like a goat, followed by his angry swear. Erica bit back her smile; eyes never leaving the computer screen before her as her fingers hovered over the keys silently, awaiting the next movement.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… it's a certainty now. All the evidence points that you were right."

"Yes, well, I'm always right, aren't I?"

He just snorted and she let the grin curve her lips broadly, letting fingers click rapidly over keys and bringing up her files. Carefully constructed files and folders of information that she carried on a disc she kept hidden in her bag. Lovely, she was right, not that she had ever thought she wouldn't be.

"So, I guess this means you'll now go running around the town, trying to get a hair from his head?"

"Well, of course." Erica tilted her head, reaching up to check a few strands of her hair. Nodding as she added the information, she listened to the static sounds of her victim attempting to, from the sounds of it, keep a sheep from eating his new coat. He certainly deserved to act as Goat Chow, didn't he? "After all, a girl always needs to have an extra weapon right?"

"I hate you, Erica."

"Yes, yes, yes… join the club, ok?" She saved the information, carefully removed the disc and slipped it away, turning her attention to her phone with her brown eyes glittering in the dimness of her locked office. "are you don, darling?"

"I don't know, Erica, am I—fuck! Get away would you, Gruff? Look, do you have what you need or not?"

"Oh, honey, if I need your help, I'll just call you. Go on back home to Port Charles and hope I don't call."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… I hope you choke on your Carb-free bread!" This so stated, the unhappy man hung up on her, swearing as he did and she laughed, standing and leaving her office and heading for the Pine Cone motel. She had found herself the perfect weapon to save Kendall from that pig and now she just had to make him her willing accomplice.

* * *

Harley was a pleasant woman by nature and, while she had decided to go along with Maxine's nasty little scheme, she felt the slightest bit guilty at going along with it. Still, here she was, going along with it, wasn't she? She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, studying it over her glasses.

Nodding at her reflection, she popped her gum again, seizing her bag and sliding out of the car, slamming the door behind her as she set off against cool concrete, heels clicking steadily at a quick pace. Swinging the bag up and over a shoulder, she pushed open the door and stepped in, a blast of warm air that wrapping around her as she let the door shut behind her.

She peered at the lobby, eyes just visible over her glasses and, with a smirk, she pushed them back up, setting off towards the desk far away, passing by milling doctors and nurses, a few people who looked wounded in one way or another… she wasn't impressed so far with the town, not after decades in Vegas.

It proved to be pathetically easy to slip past the lovely looking, dark-haired nurse attempting to get a child with chicken pox and get in to where she needed, her usual stride in full bloom as she searched for the office. She found it within five minutes and, with a twist of a knob, she darted into the office, clicking the door closed behind her.

Stepping carefully through the darkened room, she tugged off her glasses and hung them from her top, puling the flashlight from her bag and clicking it on. File cabinets? Noticing them immediately, she rushed around the desk, slipping the key ring from her back pocket and unlocking the cabinet with a flick of a wrist.

She got to work, fingers fluttering over the Os, the Ps, the Qs… ah, the Rs… flashlight held between her perfect white teeth, she searched, sharp blue/green eyes taking in names… Jesus, how many different people with R names came to Pine Valley in the last year! Just as this thought surfaced, she caught the name and, fighting her squeal of delight, she withdrew it, holding the place with a finger as she started shuffling through medical records.

Laying it atop the files, she tugged Maxie's camera from her bag and started clicking, flashes of bright light illuminating the room every few seconds. Praying someone didn't catch her after all this, she snapped the files shut and replaced them, closing the drawer and locking it. The camera and flashlight was slipped back into her bag and, putting back on her glasses, she fled the office, noting, as she did, the doctor heading down the hall, escorted by that lovely little nurse she'd passed.

She really was a lovely little thing, wasn't she? Dark-hair… nice build…very pretty. Cocking her head, Harley enjoyed the view for as long as she could, leaning against a nearby desk and playing with a pamphlet about Chicken Pox… lord, was this an omen? Had she had the Chicken Pox? She'd have to ask one of the other girls.

Sadly, the pretty little thing followed Dr. Joe into his office and, sighing, Harley dropped the pamphlet back down, rolling her shoulders and strutting back down the way she'd come. It was the oldest rule in Vegas baby… act like you belong and you will. Still, she'd always had a thing for hot little nurses… maybe she should get a name?

She caught it before she left the hospital, reading the name off the desk and hoping it was hers… it matched that face of hers, didn't it? Pleased with herself despite the knot of guilt in her stomach, she left, memorizing the name and punching in Maxie's number with a broad grin at thoughts of the new nurse in her sight.

* * *

He had no pictures of beautiful, beautiful Nicolette and he wished he did… he wished he had some face to put to the voice that was growing so difficult to remember, a voice growing dimmer with each passing year. He could barely remember her face. Curiously, it was the feel of her that remained strong.

He remembered moments at her back, running her brush down through that fall of dark hair, letting fingers trail slowly. She would let him, even when he yanked and pulled some from her scalp, she let him brush her hair and told him how good he was doing. Later, Father would take him home but those moments lingered even through years of slots and Poker games.

Strange how he thought of them now, huh?

Zach stared down at his hands on the desk, feeling Edie's eyes on him, sharp and inquisitive. He didn't really care, not in any large way and drawing in a breath, he exhaled slowly, a long harsh noise as he curled his fingers against the wood. He drew in another breath, raised his head to study his papers, papers he needed to take care of and sign.

He looked up, met Edie's dark eyes and she darted away, muttering something about being busy.

He looked back down at his work, exhaled sharply, and came to a decision about his current feelings. He hurt. It was the only way to explain it really. He simply hurt. It was like some raw ache inside him, something open and piercing, something that laced through him with every breath.

He hurt like this because of her and her pictures and that look on her face when she saw that he saw. It made no sense to him really, this strange obsession with Lavery… what? Was he some reincarnated sex God? Did those strangely bulging eyes hypnotize a woman?

Kendall wasn't some stupid little woman, and Zach saw that and enjoyed that side... and yet, here she has, running after him like some needy kitten, wanting nothing more than to get a nice pat on the head. What, did she think no real man wanted her? That was stupid, really. She was one hell of a woman.

Zach frown, cocked his head with a quiet noise of irritation… what, did Lavery make her feel like a woman? Zach hardly thought that that was the way to make a woman feel like a woman. Beating down a woman like that, nasty and selfish and cruel… no, that didn't quite click right with Zach.

So, the question remained… did his strange bulging eyes hypnotize her into acting like an idiot?

* * *

_"Zach?"_

_His response, against her back, caused a shiver to race up her spine and she was aware of his lips curving up against the skin there... his hand, spread across her stomach, pressed, worked soft muscles under softer skin and she exhaled sharply, a noise of pleasure as she stretched._

_"Are you purposely trying to ignore my attempts to have a conversation?" she mumbled raggedly, eyes half-closing as he shifted at her back, stretchout along her length, pressing his face into the long curve of her neck. "Because... um, it's not working..."_

_She trailed off, head dropping back onto the pillow as he tugged her closer to him, skin against skin, something he never grew tired of... his lips moved across her neck, across her shoulder, down her arm to her hand, held loosely in his... "It's not... working."_

_"Now?" he murmered, rolling her slightly, releasing her hand and massaging her stomach and then letting his touch move higher... letting fingers slide across breasts and up to carress her neck... "Aren't you going to answer?"_

_"Ugh."_

_"Hmm... I didn't hear that... what was that darling wife?" When all she did was shudder against him he finally broke, laughing at the way her eyes rolled back in her head, small groan rising from the depths of that perfect throat..._

"Ugh!"

Kendall jerked, stared up at the peeved looking Simone who stood tapping one foot in annoyance... "Huh?" she muttered, hands moving quickly across her lap, wondering who the hell had turned up the heat... "What? Simone?"

"Fine... no input for you, daydreamer!" This so stated, the very-pissed Simone spun and stalked away, muttering.

Jumping to her feet, shaky and still feeling the aftermath of a very bad fanstasy, she strode full-force to Greens, who reacted to her sudden snap of "Hey!" with a gasp and her coffee flying from her hands. "You! Shorty!"

"Back off, Kendall."

"You have to come with me."

Baffled brown eyes, intense frown and she rolled her eyes at Greenlee's unending stupidity. "The grand opening... You have to come to the grand opening of the casino with me, Miss Green M&M... or I'll... do something awful."

She was being stupid but she was still dazed by the feel of hands on places he'd never touched before... he'd touched her hands but that's it. He had never touched those places and yet, here she was, standing here, skin burning where his hands had been in that stupid vision. Again... again with the stupid visions of sex with her husband.

Kendall took off towards the bathroom, desperately needing water to cool down her skin and quiet to calm her heat beat... visions of sex with her husband... would the horror never end! Who the Hell had been cursed enough to dream of sex with thier husband!

* * *

_AN: The above Zen sensuality was originally slated for the next chapter... but I came up with something better so I decided to give you a gift. Tell me, did you enjoy the vision of what's to come? There will be quite a bit of adult content in here... believe me. I want feedback from Zen fans... did you enjoy?_

_And, yes, my lovelies, read it closely, there are several things being foreshadowed in there and I'd like to see how many pick one up... yes, fine, I'm just fishing for reviews... I personally can't wait for the JR/Micaela smuttiness... such a dirty mind here... yay or nay?_


	23. Chapter 23

_**A Love Story**_

23)

"_He's a lovely young man, Micaela."_

_She simply shook her head, dumping the eggs onto the plate and poking the food with a fork thoughtfully. Nodding, she clicked off the stove, setting the pan aside and turning to the breakfast table with the two plates. "It doesn't matter, Pa."_

_He watched her intently, in his jeans and shirt, dark eyes on her shape as she set down the two plates of breakfast; she went back to the counter and got her mug of coffee and his tea, ignoring his sniff of disgust at the sight of the stuff she insisted was good for him. "Honey?" she asked, setting the mug in front of him. His only answer was another sniff and, grinning, she started making it for him._

_Honey, a quick stir, a dash of milk and it was done; when he refused to take it, she gave him a glare, and, grimacing, he took a swig, shuddering at the herbal mess. Smirking at how she always won this argument, she finally took a seat, brushing hair from her face as she picked up her fork and began gathering up eggs._

"_He could have made you happy, baby… what's with this sudden turn of yours. I thought you two were doing well."_

_Buck Kincaide never let you drop a conversation, something she'd learned the hard way in their wonderful life together and, with a sigh, she dropped the fork, raising her eyes to meet his. "He wouldn't have made me happy, Pa. He wasn't the right one for me and we both would've wound up miserable."_

"_You can't know that—"_

"_Yes," she interrupted him sharply, and he closed his eyes for a moment, knowing it was useless to fight with her when her voice got like that. "Yes, I can know and I do know that we both would've been miserable. He tried pushing into marriage. I don't like being pushed."_

"_He asked you to marry him, baby. He didn't force you, he didn't hold a gun to your head, and he didn't try conning you into marriage. I don't know how the hell you got this nonsense into your head."_

_He wasn't being cruel and she knew that; she knew that quality in his voice and, sighing, she pressed fingers against her forehead, wishing it wasn't so hard to explain. "He asked me to marry him like I was supposed to say yes. He asked me like he knew it would be fine and perfect and we'd have a great life together."_

"_Maybe he was right."_

"_But he wasn't." Micaela pressed hands flat against the hardwood of the table she had grown up with, feeling the mark she'd created when she'd decided to see if she could sand the table; a long stretch of paler color against the dark varnish of the rest. He'd grown so fond of it that, despite her attempts to hide such an embarrassing story, and he'd refused to let her do anything._

"_I want you happy, baby."_

_That was it, wasn't it? The entire meaning and essence of their lives together as father and daughter. It was the only thing he truly wanted for her, the only thing that really mattered to him. He wanted her happy, happy as he'd been in that first marriage of his, the one he'd had before he'd adopted her._

"_He wouldn't have made me happy."_

"_So, what, you won't even try?"_

"_Look, I trusted him, I've been with him and then he surprises me with this ring? No… I'm not ready for something like marriage, like… that," she finished lamely, hating the understanding in his gaze from across their table, the table that strangely seemed to fit in their massive home with it's polished woods and fine crystal and Persian rugs._

"_Your entire existence shouldn't revolve around me. I want you to find a nice young man and have kids and have them come in on Mother's Day with their badly drawn but so perfect pictures of you and tell you they love you. You deserve that."_

"_Pa—"_

"_Not everybody is out to get you, Micaela." Amazing how much a handful of words from her father could disarm her, even after all these years. Amazing how much love he could put into those words, amazing how much she felt that love. She picked at the mark on the table, considering her words carefully._

"_I know that but… he wasn't the right one, Pa. I'd have loved if he was but, he wasn't."_

"_Knowing you, you'd run away from this one you think is out there."_

'_You don't think there's someone with everyone, Pa?" She already knew his answer to that, already knew his thoughts on the matter; and, he responded like he always did, leaning forward and catching her hand in his, grinning slightly while his eyes grew sharper with memories that had been made before she'd been born._

"_Everybody has someone, baby. I just hope you don't bolt from like you've bolted the last three relationships of yours."_

"_Don't worry… I won't."_

* * *

Micaela raised her gaze from the floor when she noticed him striding towards her, and was glad she had. Again, as she watched him walk, she had the overpowering urge to tie him down and bring in a troop of chiropractors to fix whatever was wrong with him. Honestly, did he really think he was hiding it that well!

When her eye twitched, she reached up and rubbed her face, hating her inability to not notice the slight limp. It was getting worse, clearly, because he'd been able to walk properly before… he must have run or something or maybe he'd banged himself in the hip on some table? No, probably he'd overexerted himself, at least that's what her instincts told her.

It was natural to be concerned; after all, he was her ride home, wasn't he?

"Excuse me!" She snapped her gaze up from his leg, blinking twice at his look of annoyance and, yeah, that looked a little bit like embarrassment. Even as she stared at him, she caught him resettling his overcoat, hiding his leg from view. Hmm, so he knew that she knew about that little problem with his leg. Intriguing.

"You came all this way to get me from the hotel?" she chirped, arching one eyebrow. At his eye roll, she laughed, and suddenly realized how she was slouched in the chair, legs stretched out slightly, shoulders cocked just right. When she realized what she was doing, she had to resist the urge to jump up and explain herself to him.

She was showing herself off, wasn't she? It was a fact that a woman knew how to show off her better aspects, even if they didn't realize they were doing it. And she was doing it right now; from the way she sat to the way she picked one nail with another. She was showing herself off like any peacock, displaying her nicer plumage.

And she didn't like how much unconscious effort she was putting into it. He stepped back when she stood, pausing to tug down her skirt and gather her wits. It had never bothered her before really, how much she used her wiles in her day-to-day life. Now, though, it truly irritated her, made her want to take a hammer to something and beat out some of this nervous energy.

"Why is your skirt so fascinating, Kincaide?"

She gave him a chilly glance, hands continuing their restless movements across the cream clothe, and trying to ignore the growing energy… she felt like someone had put new batteries in her, like someone had forgotten to pull her plug before she got too charged. She felt, in simplest words, like the Energizer Bunny.

And, she _really_ didn't like that it was JR Chandler who was affecting her like this. Forcing herself to stop her jittery movements, she reached past him and got her work bag, looping it over one shoulder, adjusting it just right. She could feel his gaze on her and, finally, she looked up to meet it, crushing the insane need to kick off her stilettos and tear away from him.

"This is a new skirt, Chandler; I don't enjoy the thought that I damaged it while waiting for your ass to come pick me up."

He smirked, took a step closer and she was thankful that he wasn't like the other men she'd had relationships, that he didn't dump a bottle of cologne of himself; oh, sure, there was a touch of it but, thankfully, not enough to clog up her breathing. It actually wasn't that bad, and, hey, neither was what smelled like breakfast.

And, boom, her stomach rumbled, loudly, and his mouth paused in mid-word, his attention lowering to her middle with a cocked-eyebrow. Damn… she was hungry and now he knew it. JR, head tilted slightly, looked back up her and grinned. "One, I thought you were surprised that I was coming by for you and two, why didn't you eat anything before now?"

_Okay, Kincaide, handle one issue at a time_… Catching his next step forward, and that big stupid grin on his face, she took a step of her own, back and sideways, skirting him. His attention, however, wasn't so easy to dodge and she found herself still faced with that intense gaze. "One, if you had left me we both knew I would have gotten back to Pine Valley and kicked your ass and two, I'm on a diet."

"You're crazy." He gestured to her with a hand, shaking his head in disgust. "You don't have any extra weight to spare, Kincaide. What do you weigh, hundred and ten?"

"Hundred and nine," she commented proudly and, strangely, he didn't react the way she would've liked.

"God, I'll never get that obsession over having a stick to come home to." He shook his head again, eyes doing an once-over of her frame and she disliked the annoyance he had on his face. "A normal woman is not supposed to be able to slip between bars." He offered her that stupid grin once again, smirking once again. "Real women have curves, Kincaide."

"I am a real woman!" she snapped but, still… damn it, how long had it been since she'd had anything other than a quick meal at McDonalds or something with way too much lettuce and tomatoes? How long had it been since she'd smelled like breakfast? She thought about that, deciding with a huff that she hadn't eaten a real breakfast since she'd left Texas.

Why the hell did he have to smell like breakfast!

"Would you be all huffy and bitchy if I grabbed you something on the way to the airport?" he asked her lightly, and there was such a lack of mocking or humor that she hesitated and then silenced her nasty retort, studying him with narrowed eyes. He was offering her food. And, besides, it would be rude, right, to say no?

"Is that lick of the lips a yes or a no?" She shot him a look, clapping a hand over the offending mouth that had betrayed her hunger. Micaela finally nodded, feeling defeated and wishing, more than anything, that she could stop the next rumble from her middle. He got a hold of her rolling luggage, shooting her that grin of his once more before taking off and she was forced to rush after him, something that was difficult with her little legs and big heels.

"Oh, and Kincaide, don't forget, I'm driving!"

_

* * *

She looked down at the shattered pieces, kneeling on the carpet. Reaching up, she touched a piece of what had been her heart, cocking her head in bafflement as she watched light glint off edges and, sighing, she pulled her hand back, studying the single drop of blood that sat on her fingertip._

_Frowning, she jumped when her door opened and then blinked when Zach entered, offered her a smile and headed over, looking down at her where she sat in confusion, nervously protecting the remains of her little heart, even if all that was left was shards. "What are you doing?"_

"_Protecting my heart."_

"_Oh." He nodded, and then, crouching, he cocked an eyebrow at her, looking amused. "Here, let me clean this up for you."_

_She caught his hand just before he got a hold of a piece, locking a small hand around his larger wrist, noting how warm it was with a mixture of delight and apprehension. "No, Zach, you can't touch them… they're too sharp and, um, they'll scratch you." It was almost a plea, desperate that he not even try… what was the point?_

_He, however, simply snorted and, twisting his wrist from her hold, he began to carefully pick up pieces, setting them in a small pile at his side; hard at work, hazel eyes intense, he picked up each piece and she watched, fascinated, holding her injured finger in her palm. When she heard movement, she looked up and raised both eyebrows at the sight._

"_Cluck, cluck," Ryan said and held up a large plastic heart. The fact that he was wearing a Superman outfit was very odd also and she stared in open-mouthed shock, eyes wide as he tried to shove the ugly heart in her direction. "Cluck, cluck," he snapped with more annoyance._

_Kendall shook her head, and, rolling his eyes, he turned and left, slamming her door behind him._

"_See?"_

_She looked down, stared at Zach, who had now gathered every piece of her broken little heart and had carefully stacked them. Motioning to them, he grinned at her, looking amused. "See? I told you they wouldn't hurt me." He held up his hands, unscarred by edges, uncut and perfect. "I'm fine."_

"_Ryan wasn't," she mumbled, and her finger was hurting, she realized. "Ryan said it hurt too much and he said it wasn't worth it."_

"_Then he wasn't worth it." It was a sentence, a string of words that impacted her very hard, causing her to shiver slightly, wishing it was that easy for her. But it wasn't and she pushed herself away, watching him warily with nervous blue eyes. He was dangerous… he had picked up all the pieces without hurting himself. That made him dangerous, he could hurt her and she couldn't let him hurt her._

"_You're cut, honey."_

_She simply held her wound, little but painful, closer than before, wishing he would leave her alone to lick her wounds. Ryan was still a raw ache and she needed to be alone now, needed to mope and hang her head and wish it would all end. She had to stop having fun with this dangerous man, had to stop trusting him because he could hurt her now, couldn't he?_

"_Stop being so afraid, here, just let me see the cut would you?" She just continued to stare and, he shifted, moving closer and reaching out to lightly grasp her hand. Pulling it closer, he inspected the cut, head cocked. "It hurts," he commented and she just nodded, biting her lip as he, very carefully, ran a finger over the small slit in her skin._

_Huh… she blinked, noting with surprise and pleasure that there was no longer any mark. She looked up at him and stilled, meeting warm eyes and enjoying the feel of her hand in his; she felt his other hand settle on her palm, moving and than stilling, effectively holding her hand in complete safety._

_She could kiss him, she thought wildly, and she wanted to… kiss him and touch him and after she could ask him things and he would answer… she wanted to kiss him and, she decided with sudden clarity, she was allowed to… and she did, leaning forward and resting her weight against him, pressing her lips against his._

_When he tugged her closer, arms hooking her waist, she responded, obeying the unspoken order; her hands settled on his chest, balancing herself as she leaned forward on her knees, and she loved the heat of him under her palms, through the fabric of his shirt and jacket._

_She was fully aware of how his hands roamed over her, how they felt as they ran across her back and then lower, playing over her thighs and then back up, with more pressure. She pulled away, inhaling and then shuddering when his mouth found her collarbone, dragging his lips up and along her jaw line…_

"_Cluck, cluck!"_

_She had to ignore it, had to pretend not to hear and she focused more on her husband, sliding hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him back hungrily and he went willingly, kissing her again, and he seemed to love the taste of her, and, oh god…_

"_Cluck, cluck!" Ryan yelled and she was aware of him waving that stupid plastic heart, seemingly thoroughly irritated by the sight of her kissing her husband. Why wouldn't he leave, damn it! "Cluck, cluck!" And he was almost screaming, hopping up and down, red cape flapping, trying to get her to take the ugly heart._

_And Zach was focused completely on her neck, on that spot that made her insides melt and twist and tighten all at the same time. She groaned, shuddered even harder, fingers clenching at the feel of teeth grazing across his skin, and she pressed up closer to him, and then arched against him, gasping…_

"_Cluck, cluck!"_

And Kendall shot up in her bed with a shriek, something that came from a mixture of hunger, frustration and, more than anything else, an urge to kill herself a chicken. She sat there, panting, eyes wild, hair sticking up, aware of how hot her skin felt and how much she wanted to run across the courtyard, break into his home and have her way with him…

And then she breathed more deeply, inhaling with an effort and then exhaling, closing her eyes as her fingers tightened in her sheets, and a small shiver raced through her… dear god almighty… she hadn't had sex in too long… a dirty dream shouldn't be affecting her like this…

It was embarrassing… or, at least, it should have been… she groaned, holding in a breath for as long as she could before exhaling harshly and, grimacing, she began focusing on how her lungs worked… and it worked, easing the heat that was pumping through her veins, roaring in her ears… _good girl, let's calm down, huh?_

Finally, with a low groan, she flopped back, sunlight streaming down on her as she lay and punched a pillow like Mike Tyson… she had a craving for chicken and had a sudden wild urge to go hunting for one and beat it down with a mallet… yeah, stupid chicken… she needed to buy herself a mallet…

Two minutes later, she was back asleep, although, sadly, there was no more interaction with her husband… damn it all to hell.

* * *

And he complained about her driving!

Sitting in the passenger seat of JR Chandler's rental car, Micaela Kincaide clutched the seat under her perfect ass, eyes wide, panting, nails about to break from the stress. Her foot slammed every few seconds down on the carpet at her feet, and she thoroughly expected the heel to break any second. Outside the window, trees and foliage whipped by, a blur of violent movement.

Her breakfast of eggs and bacon, and coffee and hash browns, was now a painful weight in her stomach and she groaned when it jumped up hard, feeling like a wallop in her chest… he spun the wheel, and slammed his foot down on the gas, and she bit her lip to muffle the shriek it caused in her throat.

_I'm feelin' like a bad boy  
Mm just a like a bad boy  
I'm rippin' up a Rag Doll  
Like throwin' away an old toy_

At the strangled noise, he looked over; raising that eyebrow he liked so much, he peered at her with amused blue eyes. "What's the matter?"

She just shook her head, panting, and then slammed her foot down again, another shriek bubbling up in her throat when a group of birds exploded in the car's wake… he hadn't hit any of them but they sure hadn't appreciated that loud honk he'd issued, had they? He spun the wheel again, exploding forward and jumping ahead of another car.

There was death in this car, she decided with sudden clarity, looking over at his form, nodding his head along to the music_—classic 80's rock_—that pounded through the speakers, either not seeing or not caring about her absolute terror at his driving… dear God, any minute now some truck was going to hit them, she knew it!

_Rag Doll livin' in a movie  
Hot tramp Daddy's little cutie  
You're so fine they'll never see ya leavin' by the back door, mam  
Hot time get it while it's easy_

Oh god… they were on a highway… she shuddered, pressed back into her seat, staring in horror out the windshield, abject terror on her pretty little face at the blur of life that they were roaring past… car, car, trees, car, car… she grunted when he jumped the next exit, surging forward with a sudden burst of speed and… thank god!

Micaela felt faint with relief at the sight of the airport in the distance… had to get out of this Hell car, away from this crazy man! He spun the wheel and down went that damn foot on that damn gas pedal yet again… oh, god… the last minutes of her hell ride proved to be the most terrifying, a drawn-out horror than unfolded itself before her eyes.

_Rag Doll livin' in a movie  
Hot tramp Daddy's little cutie  
You're so fine they'll never see ya leavin' by the back door, mam  
Hot time get it while it's easy_

And then, very suddenly, it was over and she sat there listening to the last chords of the song in a dazed state… hey, she liked this song… and then she watched, dully, as he got out the CD and put it away in a holder that had been beneath his seat. Then he looked at her and grinned and it clicked…

"You… bastard…" she whispered raggedly, seeing now the evilness of his evil, evil plan. "You… worm…"

"Aw… now you hurt my feelings… and, you know, I didn't get you killed, did I?" At her glare, he laughed aloud, and got out of the car, walking around to yank open her door, and peered down at her in amusement. "Give me your bag and I'll carry it for you." Her legs were too wobbly and, grimacing, she obeyed, watching as he looped it over a shoulder.

She was dazed and slightly annoyed at how well his little plan had worked… she killed his car and he showed her how terrifying a bad driver could be… stupid but sneaky… her legs wouldn't work and she had no choice but to accept his hand… standing, she weaved, feeling dizzy and leaned against him, trying to ignore his snickers at her expense… oh, yeah, she had to kick his ass…

Getting a hold on her elbow, he took off, leading her across concrete; finally, she leaned her full weight against him, groaning in exhaustion and wanting nothing more than to curl up and die… "Aw, Kincaide, just a little while more and then we'll be in the plane!"

"Shut up." Sure, not exactly graceful, but she hoped it got the point across to the gutless worm.

He laughed and she looked up, thankful to see the Chandler jet within walking distance. Pushing away from him, she braced herself and took off, heels clicking against pavement and trying to ignore the sound of his laughter behind her… she was glad she could amuse him so easily!

Rushing up the steps, she felt him at her back, following her effortlessly and the movement was probably Hell on that leg of his. This thought made her want to scream and she beat it back angrily, pushing herself up the last step and into the warmth of the plane, with its perfect upholstery and warm colors.

And the she stopped, cocking her head as the other woman looked up from her book, blue eyes filling with something and she stood, looking both wary and apprehensive. Micaela looked around and then gasped when JR popped up behind her, frowning at her confusion. "Who's that?"

"Dixie Cooney," the woman said as the same time JR said, "My Mom."

Micaela spun back to the blonde woman, cocked her head, "I thought it was Diana?"

"Diana?" JR asked at the same moment the blonde said, "No, Dixie."

Micaela absorbed his other word and spun back to him, smacking him in the chest and receiving a ruffled "Hey!" in response. "'Mom'? What do you mean Mom! You have a Mom!"

Then, very suddenly, like the child she was, the child nearby, blonde and beautiful, jumped up and shouted, "Cady!" at the top of her lungs.

And then there was silence, falling through the plane like heavy air, leaving all four people stunned except for the child, who clapped her hands in glee, squealing and giggling at the hilarity of this new game. Micaela stared at JR, JR stared at the blonde and the blonde just stared… seconds ticked by and then all three burst into conversation…

"Of course I have a mother—"

"Why the hell does she have two names—"

"I only have one name—"

"And this is my mother, my only mother—"

"Who's the Michelle wannabe—"

"And my name is Dixie—"

"My sister is not a Michelle wannabe—"

"You're sister! This is your sister—"

"Who the hell is Michelle and what does my daughter have to do with her!"

Silence once again surrounded the four and they all processed the snippets of conversation that had finally gone quiet. Micaela could only stare at the little girl while JR stared at her and the blonde just stared at them both, looking utterly lost. Micaela really couldn't blame and she could feel a headache building slightly at the cacophony.

She turned, stared at JR and asked, very calmly, "This is your mother?"

"Yes."

"Oh." She turned to his mother, cocked her head. "This is your son?"

"Yes."

"OK… and this is JR's sister?"

"Yes," they both said and she nodded, reaching and smoothing her forehead tiredly as they both stared at her in concern. "OK, I now have a headache so I'm going to go lay down in some dark corner away from this scary, frightening family tree."

"You have no idea—" JR started, and he laughed, stepping forward and looking amused but she moved first, clapping a hand over his mouth and snapping, very quietly, "Not another word, buddy. Not one more freaking word, mister… I need peace and quiet and listening to the twists and turns of your strange family tree will not do this. I am going to go lay down. Do you understand?"

He nodded and, with a sigh, she dropped her hand, turning away and nodding once to the strange woman with two names before calmly snapping the privacy curtains shut on her little corner… strange, strange people from Pine Valley… strange, strange… very, very strange…

_

* * *

AN: My last chapter pulled a few reviewers from lurkerdome and I hope these continue to review, at least every so often. I love this chapter, who else does? Remember, feedback keeps my Muse happy so keep my Muse happy! Review! Thank you!_


	24. Chapter 24

_**A Love Story**_

24)

"Hi!"

Tad continued to stare at the young woman who stood in the open doorway of the Martin household, staring right back at him with large blue eyes and her black hair in a bun that had come partly lose. A dusting of flour decorated a cheek; more liberal amounts had apparently been thrown into her hair, a jarring contrast of white against black.

And she was wearing Mom's apron like she owned it, something that made Tad glare at her as soon as he recognized the pattern of ducklings and tulips. He had no idea who this crazy lady was and, striding past her angrily, he focused the glare back on her, the migraine and the stress from the last two or three days getting the better of him.

"Who are you?"

"Amy." When he continued to glare through his glasses, she grinned and grabbed his hand, shaking it so hard that he half-expected his arm to fall out of the shoulder socket. "Amy Cohen, solitary Wiccan, newbie to Pine Valley! Mr. and Mrs. Martin are letting me have one of their empty rooms."

"Why?"

"Because this maniac broke into my hotel room and tried to attack me and/or kill me. At the hospital, Mr. Martin said that he had some empty rooms because his herd had moved out and I decided to take him up on it."

He looked her over again, paused, and then pulled off his glasses, studying her for a full sixty seconds before asking, "Were you attacking the flour in my mom's kitchen or did it attack you?"

"No, no." She flicked a bit of white hair away from her face, grinned again. "Mrs. Martin has decided to teach me to cook because I'm waiting for my boss to get here and see where I'm now living. However, trying to teach Amy Cohen to cook is like trying to teach Micaela Kincaide to drive. It's not completely good."

"Mom!" he yelled and headed to where the slight smell of smoke was coming from, heading to the kitchen. Bursting in, he found Ruth tossing cookies that were impersonating pieces of charcoal into the trashcan; the oven, still smoking, was open, as were the windows. "Mom, was she trying to stuff you in the oven?"

At his back, Amy Cohen gave an angry huff and a flounce of hair, snapping, "Don't listen to the Brothers Grimm… they gave us and wolves a real bad rap, buddy and we have yet to recover."

Ruth let out a laugh at that, setting down the pan and passing Tad to set a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Oh, Tad, don't be so silly. She's an absolutely darling girl and we just got too deep into our conversation." She ran a hand down a flour spotted arm, patted it with another, softer laugh. "I never knew there was so much symbolism in '_Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_'. We just got too involved."

"Mom—" He stopped, went stock still as he shared at both women, once again remembering why he had come rushing back home like he had. Immediately, Ruth caught the way his face drained of color and the bags under his eyes grew even darker. She took a step forward, put fingers on his arm. "Tad?"

"Do you think we can have some privacy?" he asked roughly and the young woman watching the two Martins immediately nodded furiously. "I'll go up to my room and do a few things. Maybe we'll try this cooking thing tomorrow?" At Ruth's nod, she rolled her shoulder, pulling the apron off and setting it on the kitchen counter before leaving the two alone in silence.

"Tad? What's wrong? You look horrible."

"Gee… thanks, Ma." His tone, a rather sarcastic one, simply made her roll her eyes and she stepped back when he squirmed under her touch. "Where's Pop, huh?"

"At the hospital… what's wrong, Tad?"

"It's about Dixie… I went to Switzerland—"

"Oh, Tad, you didn't…"

"I found her."

Complete bafflement on his mother's face, a frown. "The car? They found Dixie's car… oh, god… why don't you bring JR over here when you tell him? Maybe it'll be easier on him."

"She's alive. Mom, I went to Switzerland—I followed JR to Switzerland and he had found Dixie. He found her and… she's coming home, Mom… with our daughter."

* * *

He was aware of his mother's eyes on him, her book forgotten in her lap, her blue eyes studying the small body snoring at his side, and how, every so often, Cady blew a spit bubble. JR had always fallen asleep when he was young in the car and Dixie had more than once been forced to put him in the car and drive around the block.

This plane flight was affecting him the same and he sat in silence, chin on his chest, and his leg going numb from the small body flopped across it. The silence of the flight was a lull and he found his eye lids drooping every so often, fading into blankness for a few moments before jerking back to attention.

Why shouldn't he sleep? His mother would protect him… yet here he was, the idea of leaving himself open to attack making his stomach turn. And there was an enemy aboard, wasn't there? A deceptively delicate little thing with too much life in her eyes and too much heat in that sashay she worked so hard to keep going.

And, lo and behold, as if the thought had summoned her, there she was, stalking out before him in that new skirt of hers. She'd shed her blazer and as she passed, she shot him a sideways look with big brown eyes, and the glint there made him fight back a grin of delight… he'd forgotten how much fun a good flirtation could be.

And that was what they were doing, both of them. A Chandler courtship could be a tricky thing, just ask Brooke and Erica… JR was beginning to get the feeling that a Kincaide courtship was just as tricky, just as complicated and confusing. Still, he was enjoying how much she was doing to get his attention.

Micaela Kincaide strutted before him, in her skirt and her blouse and, lowering his eyes, he caught sight of her stilettos, stepping quickly across the lush carpet of his plane. She got to the back of the plane and stopped, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer… and then she stopped.

He watched, in interest, as she tugged off her heels, holding them between her fingers as she settled her bare feet into the carpet, stretching out her toes before getting her beer and turning and then stopping when she caught his gaze. Goddamn, she was good… she grinned, arched an eyebrow and, turning, she headed back to her corner, leaning back and going back to her own business.

JR, for his part, simply enjoyed the sight of her bending down to get off her heels. Now, JR was not some womanizer; his mother's teachings ran too deep, even at his darkest moments, and he couldn't help but respect women as more than just sexual objects. But the simple fact was, he was a man and when a man saw a woman like Micaela Kincaide, that man tended to revert to his uncivilized roots, the kind of uncivilized roots that would make a man go "ugh" when she walked by.

And, of course, that's what he did as she strutted by… sure, it was very quietly, but she heard it and he found her grinning even broadly, crossing fine legs and opening her beer. It was an interesting twist, the sight of a woman like that chugging a beer in his plane. Still, it was an extremely hot interesting twist and he enjoyed it…

Until his mother made an off noise and he suddenly remembered that she was watching their game. He looked at her, finding her eyes on Micaela with a look of deep annoyance in their depths. JR grimaced when her eyes shifted to him, narrowing and sharpening in the same second.

He felt, for some reason, extraordinarily guilty and looked away from her gaze, feeling heat rise up his neck and into his face as the full realization of what he and Micaela had been doing in front of her sank in… he'd flirted with an archenemy in front of her… what was she supposed to with that?

Well, it didn't matter because, once again, he caught Micaela Kincaide's look on her side of the plane, a broad grin and laughing eyes as she leaned back more and, hey, she looked extremely good without shoes on…

And all Dixie Cooney could do was roll her eyes up at the sky, thoroughly wishing JR didn't have Adam libido and courtship tactics… damn Adam's virile genes and JR's getting them!

* * *

Edie watched him, head cocked and amused as he tapped the end of his pen on the papers, face closed off and emotionless and attempting to pretend like something wasn't hurting him. Edie wasn't really all that worried, not with how well everything was going in the Study.

"Boss?"

He simply mumbled something and if he was as frazzled as he looked, she needed to book him a vacation quickly. The thought brought to her mind an image of him and his beloved wifey sitting on a beach in Hawaii, sipping drinks from coconuts… well, if things kept going well, it would happen well enough!

"Are those more papers for Mrs. Hart-Slater?"

Another mumble, this one affirmative, and she bit back a bad feeling that continued to grow… no, the Study was going fine… wasn't it? Beating back the nagging bad feeling with a mental stick, Edie stepped closer, and he raised his head, eyeing her with a slight wariness that she hadn't seen since he'd run back to Vegas with Hart.

"Would you like me to take them to her, boss?" Ah, there it was, at least to judge by the way Zach immediately leaned back, shrugging in his chair and avoided her gaze.

"Edie… I wouldn't want you forced into—"

"Don't be a smartass," she laughed lightly and nodded to the stack of papers with her chin, dark eyes filled with amusement. "Get it all together and I'll go drop them off so she can sign them." And figure out what the hell was going on with her Study…

* * *

Kendall could feel his eyes on her and she fought the urge to look back at him, look at him where he sat against Greenlee's desk, picking at the plate of Chinese food with a fork and watching her. Once she would have taken the moments they had alone to curl into him, curl into his side and try to meld herself to him.

Now? Now she was too afraid of him to enjoy their moments alone and that hurt more than anything else. She'd made love to him, loved him, had let him deeper into her than anyone else and now, when he got too close, she found herself shrinking back, found herself flinching when he raised his voice.

She wasn't supposed to be afraid of Ryan; this was just so wrong and painful and she was so tired of it. She wished everything would just stop and Ryan would stop looking at her like this, looking at her like he wanted her again… he hadn't wanted her and he'd drilled that into her head enough that she'd finally gotten it.

He'd shaken his happy, simple marriage to Greenlee in her face and told her how much love they had and how much trust and how happy they were and he'd screamed at her, screamed that she didn't matter, had never mattered, and she'd known better. He'd always looked at her and even while he'd looked at her with all that love, he'd said those things to her…

When he moved away from the table, stepped closer to where she was working, she started focusing even more on her work, focusing on words and numbers she had to organize. She heard him wheel another chair over, caught the movement out of the corner of her eye of him taking a seat, carton of Lo Mein in one hand and picking at it thoughtfully.

"Want some?"

"No, no… I'm not hungry." She shifted a paper, struggling to make her hands to stop shaking, but it wasn't easy with him sitting so close to her that she could reach out and touch his leg, slide into his lap and lay her head on his shoulder and just feel safe… but she didn't feel safe right now and that hurt.

She was so tired of not feeling safe around Ryan.

"Kendall?" She didn't answer and he leaned forward, setting down the carton and grabbing her wrist and she jerked back in her chair, flinching out of his hold and folding her arms around herself, staring at him with wide eyes and mouth half-open in protest. "Kendall…"

She just shook her head, standing and darting away from him, trying not to care about the hurt in his voice. "No, Ryan."

"Kendall… please don't look at me that way… don't look at me like that…"

How was she supposed to look at him when he touched her now? What, was she supposed to jump in his arms and tell him she loved him? Get naked and have sex with him on the roof again? Let him treat her like she wasn't worth even the slightest amount of respect? No, she was tired of that, tired of this and she tried to ignore the feel of him at her back.

"Kendall…" A hesitation, a long pause before, with a sigh, he muttered, "I would never hurt you like that, touch you like that… never and you have to believe that… you do, don't you?"

"Please go…" she snapped and she hated the way her voice wavered, cracked on that second word. "Ryan… please leave me alone…"

When he put his hand on her back, her instincts twisted hard, memories of nights in his arms and safety at his side and those new fears of this man she once loved more than any other clashed hard inside her, causing pain to roar through her and her muscles to tighten. "Please… we need to talk about everything that's going on… everything that's so messed up with us."

"I'm married."

"And so am I," he snapped and she flinched again and he sighed again, more pain in his voice but not taking his hand from her back. "Kendall… this marriage to Slater that you came up with? Kendall, it's wrong, it's twisted and it's… it's just wrong and I know you know that. You knew my marriage to Greenlee was a scam and you know that this is no different… it's wrong, Kendall."

"Ryan—"

When the elevator suddenly popped up, she shrieked, twisting away from his hand and spinning to meet Edie's rather chilly gaze, a gaze that settled on Ryan and grew absolutely hateful. "Kendall… you," she snapped in his direction. Striding forward, she slid herself between Ryan and Kendall in a swift movement, eyeing him darkly and shoving a stack of papers in Kendall's hands.

"Mr. Slater sent papers to Kendall," she stated to Ryan, arms crossed over her chest. "Kendall Hart-Slater. Mr. Slater's wife… legal wife."

"Edie—"

"Come on," the older woman snapped, grabbing Kendall's arm and yanking her towards the elevator, not caring about the way Kendall nearly fell on her face trice. "We have things to talk about away from Mr. Lavery. Besides," she added more loudly over her shoulder, "Mr. Lavery, your wife probably misses you tonight. Maybe you should go home and renew that happy connection!"

_

* * *

AN: I'm very involved in dealing with hurricane Wilma right now and I hope to get a lot of reviews for this chapter! I'm glad everybody loved the dream sequence and I think everybody got the symbolism of a clucking Ryan in a Superman costume trying to make Kendall take an ugly fake heart!_

_We're going to have Ryan going after Kendall actively very soon, trying desperately to get her back and not realizing he's the big old jackass who drove her off… except some more angst for poor Kendall but the next chapter of 'As You Are' is going to be coming in just a day or two… I promise!_

_Hope you enjoyed this little chapter!_


	25. Chapter 25

_**A Love Story**_

25)

Jackson Montgomery was an exhausted man; he'd moved far beyond just tired and was now exhausted, mentally and physically and found himself scrambling, struggling, just to keep his family together. It was becoming increasingly more difficult and Erica's idea of plotting wasn't helping.

Jack knew Erica Kane possibly better than anyone else did and what had begun as a quiet suspicion had settled into an intense knowledge that this—her breakdown, her new little language, her apparent loss of self-control—was all part of her little plot to break up the newest marriage of their little clan.

Jack wasn't happy about the marriage that Kendall had gotten herself into, not at all and yet he couldn't really run around town, attacking Kendall and whatever unfortunate choices she had made in her mad quest to save Fusion. Greenlee, for her part, didn't seem to have a care for the company and Simone… Jack doubted Simone even realized that she was in danger of losing her job.

He had no right to call Kendall on her mistakes, not when he thought back to the Travis Affair… he'd slept with his brother's wife, many times, and even these days, he wished that he could have found Erica in a better turn of events and he still regretted how much time had been lost to the ugliness.

Reggie was closing off from him, pulling away from him after so much work they'd done in the last few months. He was trying to deal with something he couldn't and Jack wished, more than anything, that Reggie would just open up again, talk about whatever it was that was hurting him so badly.

But, no, Ethan Ramsey had burst in, half-carrying a drenched Erica who vaguely resembled a drowned rat as she shrieked and babbled about something or another… Ramsey, after Jack had escorted Erica to the bedroom and her clean clothes, had explained that she'd shown up at his room at the Pine Cone, pounding on the door and completely terrified out of her wits, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Erica Kane always had been a fine little actress, hadn't she?

He'd thanked the strangely tall Brit who had left, frowning at the sight of Erica in a nightgown, prancing around the room and singing lightly… boy, was she laying it on thick… with the door at his back, he studied her, the anger wearing at the edges of his consciousness and struggling to stay calm.

His family needed him and all Erica could do was scheme and plan about how to make Kendall feel wrong? Jack was no fool and her talk with Ryan about the "company" had had more to do with their little plan together than any business deal. He watched her bounce around, and, suddenly feeling irrational, he strode past her, grabbed up his work from the coffee table and headed into his den.

The second he locked the door, she began knocking loudly… when he didn't answer, she began babbling and the anger and exhaustion grew three-fold as he picked up the phone, staring at it for a moment as he considered what he needed to do. shaking his head to rid it of her voice, he began dialing Reggie's number

"Jack?"

It had been days since he heard her voice say his name… his finger paused on the last number as he stared at the door she waited behind, where she was standing with the slightest bit of apprehension in her voice. Then, with a renewed strength, he finished the dialing, closing his eyes as it rang.

And then went straight to voice-mail…

Jackson Montgomery was an exhausted man and, now, he rested his head in his hands, eyes closed as he contemplated whatever was going on with his son… he listened as her footsteps faded away, listened to the door to the bedroom close quietly and all he could do was sit there and fear for whatever was tearing his boy apart.

* * *

Harley Jacobs got the job in just a few minutes, having paid with Nature's credit card… now, in her new top and perfectly cut jeans, she played with the ends of her newly-but-not-so-newly blonde hair, popping her gum as she bounced a foot in beat to the music playing into her head phones.

She was annoying the hell out of the people waiting with her and, damn, it was fun.

Her blouse, a little peasant top made of gauzy pink and peach fabric, drew very nice attention to her very nice cleavage and she liked that too… Harley was what most people would call a tramp and, in some ways, she supposed that they were right. Yes, she liked sex and she liked fun and, damn it, she was good at both so why not enjoy them?

Harley, however, was more than just easy on the eyes. She was also one of the finest schemers to ever strut the Strip in an outfit of feathers and sequins… No, she was not yet as good as Maxie was, not yet but the two worked together like, well, like oil and water because, the simple fact was, their relationship was complicated at best and nasty at it's worst.

Maxie was a big girl for her age and she could handle herself. Or, at least, she usually could. These days, however, Harley found herself fretting about the brunette and quite annoyed about the fretting about the brunette. Maxie had gotten her thrown in jail enough times to make her head spin and still, boom, there she was, right at her side through thick and thin. Sure, they were usually trying to strangle each other the entire time but loyalty was loyalty, wasn't it?

And the simple fact was, Harley Jacobs was loyal to Maxine Malone-Cambias.

So, here she was, iPod playing, flipping without much care through some old magazines. Blonde hair loose around her face, blue/green eyes focused on the secretary glaring at her; her gum, something with watermelon and strawberries that she always kept in her bag, was going tasteless but she didn't care.

When the secretary stood, heading over, she removed the earphones, peering up at the black woman with a broad grin. "Is he ready for me yet?" she laughed, and, as the woman spun and headed down the hall, she slipped to her feet and followed, making sure her hips were going full force.

Before she opened the door, the black woman looked back at her with narrowed eyes, gaze falling on the large amount of cleavage that Harley was so proudly displaying. With a slight roll of her eyes, she opened the door, stepping in and announcing Harley's entrance. Behind the older woman, the blonde paused, studying the male who studied her right back with a disturbingly empty hazel gaze.

Feeling the secretary's annoyed gaze on her back, Harley stepped deeper into the office, draping herself into the seat; hearing the door click shut, she began settling herself to her and her cleavage's advantage, watching carefully for any signs that he was enjoying the sight…

Not even a flicker of interest, no sign whatsoever that he noticed her perfect breasts. Okay, yeah, it pissed her off slightly but Maxie had been right about the fact that he apparently could live completely without any sexual encounters… ever. It annoyed her but it also made her grin, wondering what would happen to the lucky woman who got him when he finally cracked and gave in to whoever the lucky girl would be.

He looked like he had good stamina…

* * *

He'd mentioned off-handedly in his Ranger on the way back to Pine Valley that the color blue looked good on her… now, for some reason, anything that wasn't some shade of blue was simply unacceptable to be wearing at the opening. Kendall had shifted, in the last two days without his attention, into a kind of dazed state, only half-aware of the things going on around her.

After nothing in her closet had worked, she'd gone out and started milling through stores, ignoring everything but the shades of blue on the racks… she must have tried on a hundred dresses, looked them over once and thrown them away with unhappy noises of annoyance.

It was five minutes before Lacy's closed that Kendall found herself staring at the dress. In two seconds, she was ringing it up and taking it home and it now hung in her bedroom, awaiting the grand reopening of the Seasons casinos. And she stood in front of her window, glass of Bourbon in hand as she stared at the dark state of Zach's home.

She had a speech ready, something she'd carefully practiced every night as she prepared for him to come home. Strengthening herself with booze and inner calm, she always stood ready, ready to make him listen and understand that he had no idea what was going on with Kendall, her pictures and Ryan Lavery.

And then, she'd see him and any courage she had gathered flickered out, disappearing in a single second of raw panic. She'd snap the blinds closed and dart away from the windows, shaking and shivering and hiding until she heard him close his door. It was pathetic, it really was and yet she couldn't help herself.

Her dreams were becoming more difficult, more intense and she was commonly found to be in her kitchen after one of those dreams, standing with her robe open in front of the fridge, shaking thoughts of him forcefully out of her mind and beating them back with as much force as she could muster.

The thought of him finding out about her bad fantasies made her stomach turn and her insides curdle… she'd never find let him find out about those and, as far as she was concerned, no one else would either…

She watched him, head cocked, resisting all of her urges to dart away like she usually did; she refused to accommodate the fear that locked up her throat and lungs and made her knees tremble and her bones ache in some way she hadn't felt in forever. Oh, she'd felt this before but only once… and that was gone now, swept away in his attempt to show her that he didn't really need her actually.

She took another sip of the Bourbon, sighing softly as she stared at the now closed door, wishing he'd come in at any other time. Wishing that he'd look at her long enough to let her try to explain… she snorted at that, taking a long swallow of the booze, shaking her head at that stupidity…

"Yeah, Zach, even though I have feelings for you, my connection to the ex who publicly humiliated me, screamed at me, and married my best friend in front of me after ripping me a new one is so strong that I have to see if he still cares about me!"

Oh, yeah… Zach would so love that. His feelings for Ryan Lavery were well known and one of the few emotions he let himself show to the people in this town was the blend of anger and disgust that seeing Ryan Lavery brought out in him. Kendall had seen it repeatedly, and, while she'd never admit it aloud, she'd found that Zach's way of dealing with Ryan's anger at the news of the marriage was one of the best things she'd felt in a long time.

While Greenlee had just stood there, rapidly growing more devastated with other accusation Ryan had made that the fake marriage was just to make him jealous, Kendall had found herself, for the first time in months, something to protect her from Ryan's painful resentment at her… even Erica spent most of her time defending him, not caring that her daughter was standing right there while the Prima Donna ranted and raved about the beautiful Lavery marriage…

Kendall was no fool. That day, watching Ryan and Greenlee speak their vows, she'd seen it for exactly what it was, Ryan's desperate attempt to get away from what they had. She'd remember that feeling until the day she died, she'd always remember what it felt like to watch him marry her and act like he loved her. But, when somebody told you something loud enough and long enough, you believed it simply because you had no other choice.

He'd told her that they had nothing between them, that whatever they had was gone and had never mattered… that she meant nothing to either of them. She'd begun to break, begun to believed and, finally, just to stop the voices, she'd believed it and, now, here he was, looking at her in that way that made her bones ache.

He'd never stopped looking at her like that, had he? No, not really… even while he had still been so happily wed, he'd still looked at her with that need and, what, now he decided to admit it…? Kendall was no fool, but Ryan was her foolish moment these days; all he had to do was look at her and she was defenseless to him once again.

Sniffing, Kendall set aside her empty glass, wandering to the window and looking out, studying the window opposite hers… inside his home, she could see his silhouette, drifting around aimlessly, looking even as a dark shadow as defenseless as she was, as defenseless as she felt as she stood here, slightly numb from the alcohol pumping through her system.

Turning away, she grabbed her glass and headed into the kitchen, pouring herself another glassful and beginning to nurse that as she scraped a nail across her kitchen counter, feeling both dulled down and hyper-aware of everything around her. Ryan had taken Greenlee from her... no, that wasn't right… Greenlee had taken Ryan…

Jesus Christ, she didn't even know anymore… she missed them both so much it hurt almost physically… she missed how safe Ryan had always made her feel, how much faith he had always shown in her, how much he used to love her, used to show her that love with just a glance… and she missed Greenlee more than it should be possible…

Their relationship had always been complicated at best and self-destructive at worst and yet they'd had something no one had been able to destroy until Greenlee wanted him and Ryan decided he wanted out any way possible… once again, dumb Kendall Hart had been left out in the cold, left to stand and watch and hurt because that was all she could do… just two years ago, she would have called up Greenlee for emotional support and they would have feasted together on bon-bons and éclairs in their peculiar little way.

No, she was alone, trying to figure everything out and understand how everything around her had come to be so wrong and raw and painful… she poured another glass of Bourbon, drained it with a grunt and a shudder, wishing she had bon-bons and éclairs but Greens had always been the one to get the sugar stuff for their bonding time.

She'd just sat around and moped and then ranted about whatever was bothering her and Greenlee would mock her and then they would mock each other and then they would get down to business and bond even further… now, she could barely stand to be in the same room as Greens was.

She stared down at the glass, studying the way the liquid shifted constantly as she tilted and twisted the glass; she took a swig, loving it way it felt as it went down harsh, just how she needed it to right now. The alcohol was dulling her down and, while that was a good thing, it was leaving her defenseless at thoughts of how close Zach was.

He was just a little bit away… all she had to do was walk across the courtyard and knock on his door, ask to come in… make him listen and understand why she had been looking at those pictures, why she was so terrified of the way he looked at her like that…

Ryan had promised to catch her when she fell, promised to give her that strength she'd always needed so badly and then she'd fallen and he hadn't caught her… he'd broken his promises and she'd fallen and she'd kept falling and no one had caught her… no one had cared to… she hadn't mattered, not when that real moment had come…

And, she decided with a sigh, it was stupid to think that Zach would catch her next time she fell…

* * *

Micaela's third attempt finally got JR off his ass. Attempting to ignore his mother's sigh of irritation, he left Cady curled on his seat, stepping after Kincaide into the back of the plane. He was still in his suit and over-coat and didn't really care how warm he was in all the extra layers.

Micaela Kincaide, however, was still in just that silky top camisole thing and that cream skirt, bare feet sinking into carpet as she stepped to the side and let him pass, turning and leaning against the wall nearby and shutting the curtain again. Twisting partly, she fixed him with a cool glare, crossing arms over her chest and cocking her head as she noted, "You like my ass, don't you?"

"Well, it's not my fault… it's just so big, you know? I can't see anything else in this plane."

She grinned, narrowed her eyes as she studied him intently… damn, flirting was fun with him, wasn't it…? "That's cute and I am very flattered, believe me, but…" She smiled more serenely, eyes glittering with amusement as she considered that big grin on his face, and deciding not to tell him how much she liked seeing that grin. "Well, I have an offer for you."

"Direct, aren't ya?"

"Shut up," she chirped and he obeyed, mostly because he was actually curious. "I have this amazing chiropractor in Texas. She's the one I always go to when I start getting stress and she can do things with her hands that men haven't done with me. Now, I can call her up and have her on a flight to Pennsylvania in a few hours. What do you say?"

"Okay, one, I don't know what you're talking about and why I would need this woman and two… 'men haven't done to me'? Maybe you should find yourself a man? You know, someone who doesn't give you pink diamonds," he mocked, grinning like a cat as he nodded at her ring finger, empty and ringless.

Shit… "You have no idea what you're talking about with that ring that that guy gave me. I didn't ask him for some girly, dorky pink diamond! He didn't know me at all," she noted in irritation, rolling her shoulders before adding, "He never knew me, even though he tried." At his smirk, she squirmed uneasily, muttering, "Don't you worry about my sex life, Chandler… worry about your own."

JR laughed, a surprisingly rich sound that she enjoyed as much as that grin of his. "I've never been lacking in the sex department, Kincaide. Although, to judge by the look on your face, you haven't seen much action in a while… poor Kincaide… now, anyway, I have no problems that need the work of a chiropractor."

Okay, she was on solid ground here and she was thankful for it… with a renewed smugness, Micaela met his smirk, noting the edge of slight panic in his blue eyes. "You're what, twenty-two?" He nodded cautiously, and she continued on. "You are twenty-two years and you're limping. I saw you… limping through the hotel like some elderly male. Now, either you were injured before and it's hitting you hard again or you're just getting hit hard with all the stress you're under. Either way, I know for sure that there's something wrong with your back and there's something wrong with your left knee."

"You don't know that," he snapped and she moved forward and, with one perfect little light brown foot, nailed him right in the knee, twisting the ball of the foot in hard. His reaction was immediate, gasping and doubling over, one hand reaching and grabbing her foot and shoving, struggling not to fall himself.

He was clearly in pain and, darting away, she stared down at him, watching as he staggered backwards, leaning on the wall and glaring at her with lethal fury. His hands, locked around his knee, tightened and loosened as he panted and, sighing, she commented, "See? Clearly there's something wrong with that knee. Now, why don't you just tell me, huh?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," he grated out, continuing to look at her like she was a bug to squish. "It's a private matter that I dealt with a long time ago."

"Oh, yeah… clearly you dealt with it a long time ago…"

"Get out of my way."

"No," she snapped calmly and settled into another stance, knowing for sure that, while she was too small to really stop him if he wanted to get past her, he was still recovering from her nasty little blow to his knee. Setting hands on her hips, she faced him off.

"Look, Chandler, I am going to be staying in Pine Valley. The Chandlers are a vital, integral part of that town, not to mention the fact that they are one of the most powerful families their side of the Rio Grand. This means that we will most likely be doing more business together and have to communicate once in a while. And, while I may not have any actual care about your personal health, I'm going to need to have some idea of it if we ever enter into some kind of contract together."

"Fuck off!" he hissed and she simply smiled, noticing that he had eased out of his pain in his fury and was gazing at her with narrowed eyes and there was too much intelligence there for her. "If you don't tell me a few things, I'll just have to find them out myself and believe me, I may be adopted but I am a Kincaide in many, many ways. Now, give me some info and I'll leave you alone to sulk."

"Adam Chandler Jr. doesn't sulk," he snapped even more loudly and she sighed, pressing her hands into her back and stretching in the same movement. "Yeah, well, you sure look like you are," she muttered, watching him test his weight on the leg and then lean back again, apparently finding it unsatisfactory for him or his weight.

"Oh, god, you big baby!" Before he could even open his mouth to object, she dropped into a crouch, grabbing him by the lapels of the coat and pulling him down onto the seat at his side in the same movement. When he attempted to speak, she snapped at him simply, "Shut up, Chandler." He did, amazingly enough and, nodding to herself in satisfaction, she started digging fingers into his leg, noticing with surprise how tight the muscles were… Jesus, how bad did it feel for him to walk like this?

While he growled under his breath about setting a pack of Dobermans on her, she started trying to loosen up the muscles, deciding to focus on that at the moment. She doubted that her little massage here would fix everything but he needed some kind of relief… clearly. Her fingers dug and worked at the muscles as she sat there, head cocked and intent on his damn leg.

Micaela knew for sure that they most likely looked rather off, the sight of her sprawled out before him, brow furrowed in concentration… it was the sound that made her look up and she found herself ridiculously amused by the sight of him with his head leaned back, mouth half-open, and snoring. Getting a grip on the fabric on either side of Chandler, she hauled herself back to her feet, swaying for a moment before straightening.

He looked absolutely defenseless and she liked the sight of it, enjoyed how quietly he snored in his relaxation. Smoothing the new wrinkles in her skirt, she reached out and opened the curtain, blinking at the sight of the blonde who jumped back, blushing furiously. Jesus, she really was his mother…

Micaela nodded her head back at the sleeping Chandler and noting the obvious relief that came over her face when she'd seen that both were fully clothed and neither were panting or screaming "yee-haw!" in mind-blowing passion. "I'm just too much woman for him, Ms. Cooney… don't worry, you don't have to worry about us… I doubt he could keep up with me."

Smirking, enjoying the deeper blush of red, Micaela draped herself back into her seat, fighting giggles and trying to ignore how much fun it had been to feel his leg under her hands… yeah, he had a bad leg… stupid leg… not sexy or sensual or wonderfully male at all… oh, shit, she decided, dropping her head in exhaustion to the back of her chair and fighting the slight tremors under her skin.

Shit, shit, shit…

_

* * *

AN: Okay, look, I updated! Well, soon, we'll be having Micaela scheme to get at JR's back and see if his back feels as nice as that sexy, sensual, wonderfully male leg! AS always, I expect to get myself some feedback… fave scene of the chapter, peeps? Hope all enjoyed!_


	26. Chapter 26

_AN: Remember, this is AU after Binks gets Miranda back! So, in my world, the only people who know about Little Adam are Tad, Jamie, Babe and Bianca, and of course Krystal. And Kelly did not 'give up' Ace to Babe after a two second conversation… honestly, how dumb was that! We're finally getting into my Adam/Brooke interaction and how she might have reacted to the news of JR's son's death… you know, if they hadn't been so busy making the Martin dorks and the Careys the heroes… dorks… _

_Anyway, even if you're upset that I haven't updated in a while, know that it was because the chapter didn't feel right until now. Please review and tell me how I did getting into my Brooke's head… I have a big plan for her and tell me if I got her down all right, huh?_

* * *

_**A Love Story**_

26)

Brooke parked her car in the front of the Chandler mansion, climbing out immediately and striding towards the front door; Winifred opened the door immediately and Brooke strode in, easily shifting into her role as Adam's foil. It didn't matter how many years passed since her marriage to Adam had gone to Hell.

The Chandler mansion had always felt like hers, like she was meant to be there and call it home. No matter what happened or how many years passed or what was going on in her life or Adam's, it had always felt right into stride into the mansion and confront Adam with whatever the Hell he had done now.

Her life had become nothing, not since Jamie had left with Babe. Babe, who had turned JR and Jamie against each other; Babe, who had stolen Bianca Montgomery's baby and passed her off as JR's; Babe, who had caused all the hell the town was currently struggling to deal with. Babe, who had broken JR too deeply to ever be fixed.

Brooke had never really gotten the chance to call JR 'son' the way Dixie had called Jamie 'son'. And, she knew, some part of that was her fault, was the fault of how she had dealt with JR's conception and the divorce to Adam. There had always been some part of her that had known, in some innate way, that JR should have been hers.

JR should have been her child with Adam, the way they had both so desperately wanted for so long. She had given Tad a son he had never wanted and she'd been unable to give Adam what he so desperately wanted. Nothing about that had been fair and, while she'd never admit it out loud, she had accepted the fact that JR hadn't been hers.

All four of them had been so twisted together and look how it had paid off for them and their sons. Tad had only ever wanted children with Dixie and they all knew it, even when he had tried to hide it, and Jamie had sensed it even when Tad had hid so well. It should have been the other way around, Brooke thought darkly as she searched the halls for her ex-husband or ex-brother-in-law.

Dixie and Tad should have had their children, a whole little herd of blonde, southern-twanged, blue-eyed little darlings with broad grins and Tad's sense of humor and she and Adam should have had their child, should have had their son. She hated it, hated that she could think about her own son in such a way and she hated herself for thinking like this, over and over again.

And she'd never forget what she felt when she heard the news that JR's son, Adam's grandson, had been killed in that flood, the night of the storm. And she'd never forget how much her instincts had been pounding for her to go to JR, even though her own son, her own child, was out there God only knew where.

What kind of mother did that, really? Gave more care to her ex-husband's son who didn't even like her than to her own miracle baby who had run off with the woman who had put that ex-husband's son in such complete agony? It made her feel horrible, made her feel like she was even more of a failure as a mother than she'd been when she'd told Adam that she'd never be able to give him that child.

But the guilt didn't change the fact that she found herself terribly in need of telling JR that it would be okay, that she understood what he was feeling and that it would get better. Tell him that one day he'd be able to leave the nursery and mourn and then move on, have more children.

JR wasn't hers, no matter what her instincts told her, no matter what her heart said should have been and she denied every instinct that urged her to track down JR and comfort him. Besides, he had his mother back so he didn't need her anyway, right? However, Adam did need to be kept in line and what else did she have to do, really?

As if the thought was some magic word, she found herself at the door to Adam's study and, with one half-rap, she flung open the door and strode in and found herself staring at Adam and Stuart whispering. As soon as they spotted her, they stiffened, straightened and she was again reminded that Stuart had never quite perfected his Poker face.

Adam, on the other hand, simply smirked a bit at her, offering a glitter in his eyes as he smoothed his hands down his suit and studied her outfit in an entirely too male way. That was Adam for you; even scheming and planning and setting up little tricks, he still found the time to leer at her.

Simply another thing that always felt right.

She strode in, setting her bag nearby and asking, quietly, "Stuart, could you be a dear and give Adam and I few minutes of peace and quiet? There are some things we need to talk about." Stuart nodded immediately, offering her a half-hearted hug before leaving and clicking the door closed behind her.

Adam finally looked away from her gaze, clearing his throat nervously and kicking at the carpet beneath his foot a moment as he stood there, looking like a shamed little boy. Other women usually fell for the innocent act but Brooke was not some 'other woman' and she proved it by pulling out the papers from her blazer and held them up with a chilly look.

"Tell me how you did this, you egotistical, child-obsessed, silver-haired little gnome."

Brooke always had been one for the direct approach when dealing with Adam Chandler and he shot her a playfully wounded glance but she was no idiot. Even as she watched, he was edging away from her, skillfully putting a couch between himself and his ex-wife but he was no fool. No little couch would keep Brooke English at bay and so he continued his slight movements.

"Adam, I mean it, how could you do this!

"A father has to do what a father has to do," he snapped and she sighed, shaking her head tiredly and rolling her shoulders. "This was a business arrangement between the Slaters and JR, not some way for you to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. How the hell did you do this, anyway? I mean… this can't be legal."

"But it is," he crowed, laughing and then darted away again, chuckling quietly. "Clearly, or else you wouldn't be here, complaining. It's completely legal and they did it to themselves." He grinned, wriggled his eyebrows at her. "It'll work just fine, Broioke, trust me, okay? I know what I'm doing."

"Kincaide isn't happy with you."

A slight look of confusion, a small frown as his brows creased in bafflement. "She knows already?" he muttered, walking past her to lock the door and then move back behind his desk, glancing at her. "I thought she'd be scary when she found out what I did—"

"Oh, Adam," she sighed and took a step towards him, grabbing his lapels and gazing at him with an intense amount of amusement and sadness. "Not the daughter, not the girl, you stupid idiot. Kincaide, Buck Kincaide… I called him and told him what you did and he's on his way to Pine Valley as we speak."

"Damn," he muttered and, with a yelp, Brooke found herself being shooed out of his study and then found herself staring at his door. She stood for a few minutes, cocked her head and finally yelled, "I want my bag, Adam." The door was opened but as soon as she caught a hold of the bag, she caught the door, gripped it and glared at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

A grin, a twinkle in surprisingly youthful eyes and, before she could step back, he planted one on her, making her yelp again before he grinned at her again and whispered, "Getting Plan B set up," and shutting the door in her face, leaving her both amused and exhausted with dealing with her ex.

* * *

Ethan Ramsey had fallen head over heels for Simone Torres the first moment he'd bumped into her while meeting up at Fusion with Kendall for breakfast. He'd come to town for one reason, to find his father, and he'd instead found himself one of the finest women he'd ever known. Kendall had giggled for hours when she finally realized why he developed a twitch in his eye whenever Simone was mentioned.

Now, even with Kendall dealing with both Ryan Lavery's sudden change of heart and her own husband's strange isolation from her, she had set up Ethan and Simone for a date and promised to be there if he needed her. And, from where she sat at the restaurant, hidden partway behind a potted plant, peering out at her successful matchmaking.

The new romance between her favorite new Brit in Pine Valley and one of her friends was providing something for her to focus on other than her husband and her ex-lover's current obsession with her. She sat, glancing up every few minutes to check on Ethan and Simone, and considered the plate of Eggs Benedict absently.

"You're usually hungrier this time of the day."

She jerked, snapped her head up to meet Ryan's blue gaze and her stomach knotted painfully, a wrenching movement inside her as she dropped her fork, previously occupied by poking at the food, to the plate with a clatter. Even as she watched blankly, he took a seat across from her, leaning back and observing her.

He looked perfect as he always had, and she sat back, not jumping up but not wanting him to think that she still cared about him, even though she still did, and had the agonizing feeling that she always would care about him. He gave her a smile and she looked down at her mutilated food, clenching her hands in her lap. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to talk," he stated quietly and she looked up at the slight tone. His eyes were soft, softer than they had been for a long time and she looked away, noting with a touch of amusement that Simone was now feeding Ethan bits of egg. "Kendall, I need to talk to you. We need to talk about things."

"There's nothing to talk about, Ryan. Where's Greenlee? You know, your little, precious wifey? You know, the one you love so much?" she was angry and she was confused and she hated the way he was looking at her, like she was suddenly so goddamn precious to him, like she meant something to him…

"Greenlee doesn't matter, Kendall… I want to talk to you." She dropped her face into her hands, swallowing as he continued and it was clear that he didn't care, not really. "We need to talk about this marriage with Zach and… I don't understand why you're acting like this… you used to be able to tell me anything and now you sneak off to Vegas and tie the knot?"

She wished he'd stop playing with her, stop making her hurt like this, stop making her so confused she didn't know what she wanted, not really. She could hear him talking, saying things that made since and didn't, saying things that made her ache like she hadn't since she'd stood there and watched him marry Greenlee.

"Ryan."

It was the quality there that made him go quiet and go still, and he froze, staring at her and then he looked away when she finally raised her head, and she reached and got a bag, standing and he turned back to her to find her gaze so devastated, so empty. "This must be love," she finally laughed, brokenly, shaking her head and making curls play.

"This must be love because nobody else can make me hurt like this so… that's gotta mean something right?" She shook her head again and, when he tried to grab her hand, she fled, snapping for him to stay away from her as tears streamed down her face and she tore out of the restaurant.

No one ever made her hurt like this so that must mean something, right?

* * *

Kendall didn't want him and it was almost more than he could bear.

He had known, very early on, that what she'd had with Ryan Lavery was intense. He wasn't that much of an idiot and he'd understood that, grasped that, once upon a time, they'd had the forever kind of love. Now, though, he had found that he had been stupid enough to let himself care about her.

But he had really thought, for a little while, that there was something, something he'd never really felt before, a kind of flutter inside him where there had once been nothing but an emptiness he had once worked so hard to create in the first place, something that had helped make everything easier to deal with.

Loneliness had been something he had been used to growing up. Even with all of the private tutors and the maids, he'd always found himself completely and totally alone in his childhood and even Michael's presence had never really filled that meaninglessness that he'd never been able to put into words or give anyone other than Edie a glimpse into.

When he'd finally snapped, finally fled, it hadn't been that hard, not really and he'd found that the physical solitude of that new life wasn't nearly as bad as being Alexander Cambias Jr. And then there had been Edie, another runaway who was searching for nothing more than her next meal.

They'd survived together, managed to keep themselves alive not just physically but inside too. He'd gotten her back and connected to her family and, when she'd learned the truth, she'd kept it for him, been the only one, for a long time, to know that he hadn't been born Zach Slater.

He felt more alone now than he had ever felt in his entire life and it was affecting him physically now. His sleeping habits, always under control, had been thrown to hell and his appetite was suffering as well. He had an overwhelming feeling that nothing was going right and that everything was wrong.

And everything that was wrong came down to the fact that Kendall clearly didn't want him.

He'd been incredibly stupid and fallen for her full force, and he had no real idea when it had happened, not really. He knew that he had begun to care about her before he'd taken her to Vegas and he knew that watching her with Miranda in the hospital that day, even if Kendall had spent the whole time glaring at him, had been a thoroughly enjoyable sight.

He knew that he loved the way she smirked and that he loved the way she laughed at him when she decided that he was being idiotic. And he knew that he loved the way she looked when she banged on his door in the middle of the night and snap for him to find a padre. And he knew, clearly, that he loved the way she'd glanced at him sometimes, a nervous edge in her gaze.

She didn't want him though, she wanted Lavery, and he had the painful idea that she would always want Lavery because, hey, who needs respect and real caring when you can have someone who married another woman while you stood there, drenched, watching in agony?

Yeah, why would she have wanted Zach anyway, when she could always be taken back by Lavery? He didn't really understand how she could possibly stomach the idea of going back to him, not really, and he hated the thought of her acting as a poor man's Greenlee when she was so much more than that Shrew could ever be.

Kendall should be appreciated, Kendall should be loved and cared for and treated like she wasn't just convenient for Ryan Lavery.

Zach would have treated her right, he would have appreciated her and loved and cared for her and he knew that he would have. It wasn't a hard thing to do, not with Kendall and he could easily see himself doing it years from now. Ryan Lavery was lying when he said that she was hard to love.

She was easy to love, no matter what her mood. Yeah, sometimes it was difficult to deal with her, to get her to stop attacking long enough to let you care for her but the love itself wasn't hard to muster up, not for Zach and he found it there constantly now, and each time he saw her, it got easier to love her.

Kendall didn't want him and it was more than he could bear. And what about Maxine, Maxie, that daughter of his that was so damn hateful and hurtful, the girl he saw his father in so clearly every time he saw her? He'd wondered, for just a moment, if Kendall might have been able to help.

Yes, he knew clearly how Kendall and Maxie felt towards each other but, he'd also wondered, just once or twice, if she might have been able to help him get it, understand it, perhaps help him deal with the daughter that he couldn't grasp or understand and was too afraid to want to understand.

Kendall didn't want him and it hurt and dealing with Maxie, or even trying to deal with her, was becoming harder and harder every time he managed to once again confront her with his attempts to simply hand over the company. Livia had already set everything in motion for the suit, was preparing but Zach continued to hope for some miracle.

Kendall didn't want him, clearly, but maybe Maxie could put up with him every so often.

* * *

The books were kept hidden, and were bearing the marks of her obsessive with their contents. She'd wondered, at first, if this was just some way to get back at her mother, if she was just getting back at her for taking her from her father like she had, dragged her away and lied and said that they would see him again in a while.

Always it was the same lie and it was getting too painful to believe, despite how much she wanted to everyday.

There were two things she had now, two things she had to focus on until she managed to get back home to her family, her real family. One, she had the books with the names and the things she carefully memorized, and it was the piece of crystal quartz that she had hidden around her neck.

And the other were the newspaper clippings she had saved, sheets of thin paper filled with black and white words and photos, the only part she still had of the people she loved, the people she couldn't help. She should be with them, at their side, should be able to be where she was supposed to be.

Her mother had attempted to take the few things she had left and she had learned to hide them, learned to keep them safe where her mother and that blonde bitch couldn't find them. Her bear, a little stuffed plush that Dad had gotten her before she could remember was kept in her bag, hidden in the bottom with the notebook filled with facts and things she had found in the libraries she managed to sneak to.

Now, as the rest of the farmhouse slept, she slunk from her bed, sliding to her hands and knees and tugged the bag out from beneath the bed, climbing back into bed with it and immediately tugging out her bear, holding it for a moment and savoring it before setting it at her hip and dragging the small box out of her bag.

The clippings she had just found were pulled from the pocket of her jeans, carefully examined before being slipped into the box, and she stared down at the top picture for a long moment, swallowing as she read the words she was getting so tired of reading. JR's son was dead, that's what they said in the papers and they slapped the Chandler name on everything now, slapped her father's face and JR's face on every paper to sell it.

They said that JR's baby was dead and that was a lie. She saw him everyday, came down to breakfast to see him shoving food into his mouth. He was the most precious thing she had ever seen and he was the only thing that kept her sane while she found herself being dragged from place to place, shoved around like she was some perfect doll.

And Babe loved him? Oh, yes, she knew how much Babe loved her son… she'd never forget how she had felt, how much she had hated babe when she learned that Babe had been the one who had left that damn iron on, left Little A to pull it down on his little hand. Her mother had taken her away from Dad to keep her from being hateful and hurtful and look what had happened.

She had never truly hated anyone, not really and she suddenly found herself struggling just to keep calm whenever Babe went around her, smiling and laughing and she hated her, truly, deeply hated the woman who had done all those things to her family. To her father and her big brother and her real family.

They called him James, bragged about Jamie's heroism. Yeah, stealing your bother's wife and baby, making him think his baby was dead? Yeah, he was a real heroic guy, clearly. But the thing that hurt her most was that her mother knew… her mother knew what they were doing to Dad and her brother, what they were doing and she didn't care!

All she cared about was keeping her precious daughter away from the evil Chandlers and she hated it, hated sitting in a room and hearing her mother and that 'hero' and that tramp sit and make nasty comments about the Chandlers. Was she that stupid? Was she stupid enough not to remember that her own daughter was a Chandler?

She shoved the box back into her bag when she heard the footsteps outside her door, shoved the bag under her blanket and rolled away from the door just before it opened, gripping the bear against her chest and closing her eyes and wishing she could just call JR and then hand him his baby, wishing she could fix her family and get back to her father and her brother, her real family.

Liza watched her for long moments, watched her before turning and leaving and Colby unhappily put away the bear, swallowing at the flood of emotion that came from putting it away. She stashed the bag, her throat aching and stared up at the ceiling, wishing she was home with the people who love her.


	27. Chapter 27

_**A Love Story**_

27)

Myrtle Fargate considered Zach Slater to be a fine man, especially when you consider just how many not-so-fine men there were in Pine Valley. For a long time, she had thought that Ryan and Kendall would be the two who would survive everything, that she'd get the chance to see their children wreaking havoc in Pine Valley and being adorable while they did it.

It had been with a quiet sort of sadness that she'd realized that she would never see what she had so dreamed of for Kendall.

Now, though, she had begun to think that, just maybe, Kendall still had a chance at what she'd always wanted. And if Ryan Lavery thought she was going to sit back and let him ruin what she wanted for Kendall, the weenie had another thing coming… something coming in the form of an elderly yet spunky carnie with a bit of a crush on Zach Slater.

* * *

Palmer Cortlandt had handled the news given to him by an excited Opal rather well considering; although when he found out that that jackass Adam Chandler had known for weeks, it had been only Petey's pleas that had kept from tracking down the other rich old bastard and doing something extremely nasty to him.

Okay, fine, it was also Opal threatening him with a broom that had kept him in the Cortlandt home, simply seething as he had counted down the hours until JR got Dixie to the Martin home. Although he knew that JR was right in his insistence that Dixie have a good night's sleep before dragging her into the chaos and Hell that was the tangled Martin/Chandler/Cortlandt family tree.

Now, finally, he paced the living room of the Martin home, eyeing with slight irritation the young woman that Petey was ogling with wide eyes, his teenage hormones going full force. Granted, she didn't have much in the chest area but she was a pretty thing and his youngest child was all too happy to enjoy the view as she set out the food that Ruth had made over the last hours.

The young woman, Amy something-or-other, was vaguely familiar in a way that any Pine Valley citizen learned to be afraid of and he found himself glaring at her with narrowed eyes, trying to figure it out. Yet, he couldn't, not with why he was there in the first place, swearing under his breath every few minutes.

Dixie's nearest and dearest, gathered together to welcome her home and see her for themselves… Palmer focused on ignoring the way Opal was whispering with the new girl, who was apparently not Tad's favorite person—at least to judge by the way he glared at her—and he winced when he heard the words "Tarot" and "fun-time" in the same sentence.

Just what he needed at the moment, somebody to play with Opal's cards with her at all hours of the day… when he heard the unmistakable sound of Adam and Brooke's muffled bickering, he stuck out his chest and prepared for battle, beginning his tirade the second the Chandler patriarch set foot in the living room.

And Adam walked right by him, Brooke right at his back, tapping him in annoyance with her hand-bag as he started picking at the plates of food, earning a sigh of defeat from Ruth, who left to get the next tray of cheese and meat. Amy, however, favored the eldest Chandler with a slightly peeved look.

"These are supposed to be for that woman who died but isn't dead… these aren't for you," she stated with an oddly hysterical air of an irritated baby-sitter. Adam stared at her for a few moments, looked down at the slice of club sandwich that he held and offered her a wicked smirk before popping it into his mouth.

The chest-less wonder looked rather irritated, leaning closer to Brooke and whispering quite loudly, "Am I supposed to be afraid of him or something?"

Brooke snorted, shook her head and smiled lightly, eyes sparkling as she whispered just as loudly back, "No, he just likes to think you should be." She cocked her head, studied the young woman more intently. "Who are you?"

"Just the crazy lady who has no actual idea who you people are… but Mr. and Mrs. Martin are giving me a really great room with about zero rent so I should help, right?" Amy beamed, and then took Brooke's hand, pumping it warmly. "I'm Amy Cohen. Please call me Amy. Now, um, I have to go help Mrs. Martin with the food."

Stuart simply set out the pies he had baked, mumbling to himself as he shifted them repeatedly, apparently searching for the right set up and Marian finally led him away to sit by Joe, who was nervously twiddling his thumbs and muttering under his breath. Palmer swore to himself, shaking himself and then heard the unmistakable sound of a car door opening and then slamming.

He felt Joe surge to his back, and then Tad nearly bowled him over when he lunged for the front door, grabbing onto the doorknob and pushing against it twice before swearing and yanking it open and was none too gently shoved aside by what had to be the smallest female Palmer had ever set his eyes on.

Micaela Kincaide found herself the focus of a massive group of people, from a teenage boy who immediately began focusing on her breasts to an old man who was just sort of glaring at her. She frowned, cocked her head, wondering if she'd had the address right in any way… and then she spotted the female following Ruth Martin out of the kitchen.

And Amy noticed her, a huge grin coming over her face as she set the plate down on the table and threw up her arms in a rather ridiculous show of girlish glee. "You're here… Wait, I thought you were in Switzerland… what are doing here?"

"Visiting." Micaela glanced at Tad, reached out and patted his cheek playfully. "Thanks for being such a gentleman, Mr. Martin." She turned, cocked an eyebrow at Amy and stalked across the room, looping an arm through Amy's and dragging the taller woman up the stairs, where she hoped her room was. "Let's go, we have things to discuss."

_

* * *

Kendall was smiling at him, lips curved up like a Cheshire cat, hazy blue eyes of her fine and flawless and glittering with mirth as she gazed at him over her cards… "I so kicked your ass this round," she sang softly and he was only barely able to bite back the grin that the laughter in her voice brought on._

_He studied his own cards, studying them for long moments before grinning at her, his careful control slipping up for a moment of glee, something he'd never experienced from just a look like that from someone, but then, she was making him feel and do things he'd never known he had in him._

_Kendall was becoming the most pleasant surprise Zach had ever encountered in his life._

_He eyed her, with hazel eyes warm with humor, and he managed to clear away the grin for a moment before he got a full dose of that grin again and he rubbed his mouth, looking away for a moment before looking back and observing her. "You, Madame, are no lady."_

_She burst out laughing for a split second, a explosive guffaw before she clapped a hand over her mouth and it caused light to flash off the massive rock that adorned her finger, the one he had slipped on as a way to get what he wanted and he had ended up finding what he had always needed._

"_What are you gonna say next hubby, 'frankly my dear, I don't give a damn'?"_

_He studied her intensely, silently, acutely aware of her scent as she leaned across the table and scooped the amount of Poker chips away from him and towards her side, cackling softly as she did and tossing her curls, looking every bit the wife triumphant and his fingers fiddled with the cards that hadn't won him this game, watching her and enjoying her joy at his expense._

_And then she picked up on his focus and looked up, staring at him with her eyes half-hidden beneath her eyelids, long lashes shielding herself from him and he was even more aware of her, even more aware of how wonderful she smelled, how she was just close enough for him to pick up on the warmth that saturated her._

_She reached for the remaining chips, eyes still on him and he moved suddenly, his hands fastening around her wrists and she bit her lip, grinning and blushing all at the same time, but there was something in the eyes that finally focused completely on his were edged with something like dominance…_

_She twisted her wrists, grabbing a hold of his hands and gripping them with a shockingly strong force and he leaned forward, responding all too easily to her strength and grateful for it; after all, it wasn't like he was in any way able to take care of himself, keep himself going as anything more than a man who existed._

_There were long moments of silence as they peered at each other and then she stood, supple perfect form unfolding and not releasing the hold she had on him with one hand, slipping charmingly around the desk and then she stood in front of him and he stared at the hand that gripped his, the strength that he needed for so long._

_And then she was kissing him, and he slid arms around her waist, pulling her close to him and into his lap, gathering her against him and she didn't fight him, not at all. If anything she moved by herself, pressing and crushing herself against him, breathing rapidly against his mouth and fingers playing over his face and neck._

_He pulled away, fighting to control himself and it wasn't made easy by the fingers that were laced through his hair and the shallow breathing and he tilted his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and he let his hands roam across her back and then glide lower, rubbing large circles and, god, she was so warm._

"_Why are you fighting this so hard?" It was a ragged whisper, coming from low inside her and he simply shook his head softly, not answering and he cringed inwardly at her sad sigh, at the misery there that he could fix. But what if he couldn't, what if all he did was be that finale blow that broke her?_

_He smoothed his hand down her curls, swallowing and simply savoring her, savoring the feel of her warm weight in his hold, here, where she wouldn't break him like no one would be able to and he knew it, knew full well that she would never feel the same because he could never love her like Lavery had once loved her so why should she even try?_

_She simply sat in his lap, wrapped in his hold and she tilted her face, burrowing her face in the curve of his neck for a moment before going back to his mouth, kissing him and crushing herself as hard as she could against him, seeming to try to simply press herself completely into him—_

And he stared down at the game of Solitaire that was laid out before him, the only thing he had been doing the last hours, playing with little pieces of paper and pretending like they held something he was looking for. And it wasn't true, it was just more of his own lies, the only thing he had learned to survive on, lies that he didn't need anybody else.

Zach looked up, studied the rest of his office, eyes open only because no one was there to see him and take him down with it, use it against him like his father had. He had cared for his mother; he had given her some piece of himself that he had worked so hard to keep hidden and look how it had ended.

Kendall would end the same way, looking at him like he was nothing and insisting that he could never do what was needed, ending up like that, some shattered shell of a woman with empty eyes and a too fragile voice and a quality of spun glass and something that had been broken one too many times to ever heal.

And he wouldn't let Kendall end up like that.

* * *

Amy's room was truly Amy's room and Micaela found herself smiling as she entered, feeling Amy slip in beside her, the much taller female making Micaela feel even more small and useless than before. The room, still feeling light and airy and feminine, must have belonged to a female at some time and, while the walls weren't an explosive pink, they were a soft shade that spoke of sweetness.

The pagan/Wiccan/something-or-other-that-Micaela-didn't-understand had already decorated it in a way that screamed light and airy, making the room feel even more open and gentle than before. The only overly loud decorations were the tie-dye pillowcases and the edge of a sheet that peeked out of the trunk at the foot of the bed.

Micaela looked at it, and then arched an eyebrow at Amy. "That the new altar clothe?"

"Yep." Passing Micaela and kneeling, she opened the trunk and pulled the clothe out, holding it up before her for her friend to inspect. Her last one had been a midnight blue number, and Amy had taken white thread to it, sprinkling stars across it lightly. She probably still had it at the bottom of her trunk, even with its burn marks and candle wax and incense stains.

This one, beneath Micaela's fingers, was softer, silkier, and she winced at what candle wax and heat might do to it, not to mention if Amy spilled any of her oils on it. It was more brilliant than the blue and, when it caught the light from the window just right, the summery green slipped into an almost white. "You're gonna have to be careful with that one."

"I already have it all planned out." Folding the sheet across her arm, she gestured absently to the table that someone had pushed before the window, its surface flat and shiny and, spotting the thin glass resting against its legs, Micaela grinned, seeing that Amy had taken her previous advice on how to make her altar clothe last longer than before. "And Maggie already promised that she would help me set it up in a day or two."

Maggie… the name connected itself to a few things and Micaela watched as the clothe was carefully set on the edge of the bed and she set herself down, folding one long denim-clad leg beneath her and observing Micaela with those wide blue eyes that revealed so much so often, had so much emotion that she wasn't afraid to give out willingly, even to people who didn't deserve it.

"Did you get that club of yours… and apologize to Mr. Chandler? And, um, do other things that young, attractive, overly perfect business-women do on a regular basis or when, you know, they go to Switzerland and come back with a dead woman and a dead little girl?"

Amy, Amy Cohen, who could gather up everything Micaela had done in one long run-on sentence and Micaela chuckled to herself, shaking her head and finally answering, "Yes, sort-of, and, yes, yes, yes and a big yes to that last one even though I didn't exactly understand it."

A million-watt smile and a flash of white teeth, watching as Micaela slipped off her heels and then dropped into the light beanbag, rubbing the arch of one foot as she did, feeling Amy's silent laughter and enjoying it. Micaela, loner that she was, had pathetically few friends and none of them meant as much to her as Amy did. Sure, they happened to disagree over how useful mothers really were in the long run but they both got having one thing and wanting another.

Micaela's eyes found the frame by the bed and she noted that Amy was still using her Christmas—er, Solstice present, a silver-plated frame that held a picture of her and her mother, just before the car crash and she smiled to herself, even if she went by the belief that mothers were vastly overrated.

"Really… are you dealing with everything okay?"

Micaela shrugged, looked away for a moment before casting Amy a grin and an arch of an eyebrow. "Don't worry about it, Amy…" she waved one hand absently, shrugged again and then ran fingers through her hair, smiling quietly to herself. "I think I've found something to keep my interest in this little town."

* * *

Palmer, upon spotting Kendall Hart-Slater, was at her side in just a few moments, wrapping his arms around her and chuckling, working hard not to notice the strained quality to her and her smile and her voice when she laughed with too much brightness and she beamed, shucking off her coat and letting him toss it to Joe, snapping for the doctor to hand it up somewhere.

JR had brought Kendall and for that he was grateful. Kendall was one hell of a woman and she would keep everybody in line while he checked on his niece and his little niece and he chuckled, leading her to the couch and settling her down, chuckling yet again as he patted her hand…

Damn it all to hell, Myrtle was right wasn't she?

So focused was he about focusing on his favorite Kane of all, he missed the opening of the door completely and was only aware of her entrance by the way Tad's head snapped up like a bulldog's when he spotted her, as always keenly aware of her presence no matter what was going on.

He turned, stared at her as entered, slinking in cautiously with that daughter straining at her hand, muttering about running off with some dog or something and all he could see was his niece and he stood, crossing the room in a handful of strong steps and locking his arms around her, almost lifting her in his joy.

"Welcome home, Dixie… we've all needed you so much."


	28. Chapter 28

A Love Story 

28)

JR had wanted there to be a nice calm reunion, something that wouldn't be too emotional or too much for his mother. And, like everything else in his life he tried to prevent, it didn't do any good in the end as everything went all to hell despite his best attempts. And, so, here he was, standing on the threshold of the Martin family home, watching in stunned silence as his mother was completely enveloped in a swarm of family members, all crushing her as they sought to see if she was real.

He understood it; god knew he had done the same multiple times since he'd first gotten the chance to hold her without having to worry about frightening her. She'd always seemed so big, so larger than life and now she was smaller than him, something that was strange to him and his memories of reaching up to wrap his arms around her waist.

Considering the fact that he was about to dive into a seething mass of hypocrites, JR was violently thankful that the pain pills he had taken before getting there were kicking in, soothing the beginning ache in the injury that he really did need to get fixed. Grimacing and swearing under his breath, JR checked that the door was locked before setting Cady down at his side and heading forward, shoving his way between Opal and Ruth to seize his mother's arm.

She shot him a slightly amused look of relief as he stepped between her and the group, who had realized that she was out of their collective hold and turned to JR with varying levels of annoyance, hurt and offence. Still, he was thankful to finally spot the tall woman who was standing at Palmer's side, staring at his mother with wide eyes.

She'd heard it over the phone, heard the words but, like JR, the full realization that Dixie Cooney was alive was only now fully sinking into her mind. Kendall's eyes finally left his mother, shifted to his and there was something off there, a silent, almost hidden flicker that almost looked like guilt.

Later… he'd get her alone and get to really talk to her later…

"Look," he snapped, gesturing with one hand towards the group and then jerking his head back to his mother, "I have no idea how all of you got here but I don't really care. However, I do care about the fact that you could have stampeded her which would have pretty much made her happy return to Pine Valley and her family a waste of time…"

He paused for a moment, stopped, watching as Tad, leaning back in the couch, stood and strode to the kitchen, letting the door shut behind him and JR hesitated in his words, knowing he and his mother were the only ones who had seen him even get up. Later, he'd worry about Tad later.

"My mother is home but I'm not going to let you all rip her to pieces just so you can get happy she's back. It's a lot more complicated than any of you think and it's been a very stressful week or so for both of us." He gestured slightly to the herd, shrugging and looking irritated as he once again backed her up a step when Opal darted closer a step or two, looking giddy and slightly psychotic.

JR really didn't like the look, not at all.

His mother, on the other hand, was attempting to get past him, attempting to apparently let herself get squashed like a blonde bug in order to see the people that she knew but apparently didn't know. That had to be confusing for her and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and regarding the people who had once been his family.

Uncle Stuart and aunt Marian, standing shoulder to shoulder and studying Dixie with broad smiles; Joe and Ruth whispering together, eyes on the little blonde girl who was currently humming to herself as she glanced around the Martin home; Opal with that psychotic gleam in her gaze and uncle Palmer scowling although his eyes, on his niece, were warm; Petey staring at the foot of the stairs as if something truly marvelous had gone flouncing up there…

And there was Dad and his presence brought an odd sort of certainty to feel of the room around him. He'd never trusted his father, never trusted that his father really loved him, even though his father said he did and Stuart said he did and his mother said he did, even if he wasn't all that good at showing it to JR because of his own problems.

Adam had sent him to Switzerland, had told him to trust his own instincts because he should, because they were strong and they were powerful if only JR knew how to use them… his father cared, he did, and he hadn't done what he had done with Miranda—_Bess, Bess, I don't care what they say, she'll always be my beautiful Bess_—because he wanted to…

It was a stupid moment to be weak, it was, but there it was, a dulled sort of acceptance as he felt his mother at his back as a kind of lifeline and his eyes on his father, Brooke at his back. His father was there, the only one who had stuck by him through Babe and Jamie and what all had gone on…

Kendall and his father were the only two who had stood by him, the only two who had cared enough, loved him enough to stand at his side, try to help him, share any kind of warmth with him as he mourned Bess and his little boy in the nursery of a baby girl that wasn't his but still felt like it.

JR cleared his throat, releasing his hold on his mother and working to relax himself as the smallest sense of contentment settled over him, staring at his father in silence, for the first time since Babe's had showed her true colors that his eyes and his face were open for all to see his weaknesses.

His father loved him. No matter how much Adam might hate Dixie or his baby sister or anyone else, he loved JR, he loved his son and had proved it, proven it when he told JR to get on the plane and follow the instincts that were pounding that there was something there waiting for him… instincts he'd felt for years and never listened to because there was no point.

Adam loved him.

How many years had he been waiting to see that, waiting to feel it as more than a gut reaction? He'd loved his father, hated that he loved his father because Tad was the one who cared right, Tad was the father who actually loved him so how could he hurt Tad by loving the father who only saw him as a means to an end?

Tad loved his mother, Tad loved his sister and Tad loved Jamie but Tad didn't love him; clearly, painfully, he had just been a way to sock it to Adam, a way to get his mother, who was the only one he really wanted. It was a painful ache inside him as he continued to stare at his father, as his eyes shifted to the doorway to the kitchen.

Tad didn't love him but Adam did… hadn't he always been afraid of that, afraid that he was just a way to get to his mother…? His father loved him even though Tad never had… his father was the only one he needed now… Adam and mom were the only ones he needed now…

He felt sated, not happy or joyful but sated as he stepped back, let Opal rush forward, tears in her eyes as she wrapped arms around her beloved daughter-in-law and Dixie awkwardly returned the motion, patting the older woman on the back as she shot JR a slightly giddy, amused expression.

JR was barely aware of it as he stepped around the mass, meeting his father's gaze for long moments as he moved, silent and slow. It was just a look, just a glance as they peered at each other, sounds of the joyful reunion going on around them fading as they met each other's stare with extra strength.

Brooke's head was moving back and forth between them when JR paused at the door, hand on it and still before he pushed through and let it swing shut behind him. Brooke glanced at Adam, arching an eyebrow as she studied him with a cracker of meat and cheese half-way to his mouth, hand having froze when his son put all his focus on him. "What was all that about?"

"You wouldn't know…" he mumbled roughly, looking away from her to set the picked-at plate on the nearby table and then strode away from her, passing the reunion and heading up the stairs, passing by Amy Cohen as she came down, stopping to observe the group of crying and laughing people with wide eyes.

* * *

One second Amy was explaining about how that Laundromat hadn't turned out to be all that good a spot for her shop and the next moment, she had streaked downstairs, insisting that she was needed. Micaela had rolled her eyes, knowing it to be one of Amy's strange quirks before standing, straightening her clothes and pushing hair from her face before heading for the door, opening it to be confronted by an agitated-looking Adam Chandler.

Was this one of his quirks?

"Mr. Chandler…"

"Yes, yes, of course," he snapped in quiet irritation and slipped into the room, effectively edging her back in at the same time. She studied him with narrowed eyes, intrigued by the odd glitter in his gaze as he stared at her, checking the lock by reaching behind him with one hand, jiggling the knob of Amy's door.

A hint of disdain as he gestured slightly around at Amy's décor, lifting eyebrows in amusement at Micaela before moving past her, kicking at the beanbag with one foot and casting the young woman a slight grin. "This is truly a fine little room, really." His grin broadened, jerking a thumb at the violent blue coffee mug filled with pens and mechanical pencils, a notebook lying beneath it. "Is she twenty-two or two, really?"

She just glared and he chuckled, turning full attention to her and observing her with eyes that were slightly hazy with humor at her friend's sense of decorating. Granted, Amy really did tend to be rather ridiculous when it came to her interior designing but still, Micaela didn't like him laughing at her.

It must have showed, for he sighed, rolling his eyes and finally regarding her with more intensity. "Has anyone ever told you that you carry too much stress for a young woman your age, Ms. Kincaide?"

"Bite me."

"No thank you… I'm currently hoping to be biting my ex-wife within a few weeks so I'll have to pass you up on your wonderful offer." At her look, he grinned, arching an eyebrow in pleasure and apparent delight at her attempts to scare him off. He was even more annoying than his son and she glared at him, setting her hands on her hips and then hurriedly dropping them when the sight of her slipping into mother mode made him chuckle.

"I'm just here to visit a friend so don't get all pissy with me for being here."

"Why would I be at all irritated by your presence, Ms. Kincaide? This isn't my house; hell, I don't even like being here. In case you can't tell, the Martins' idea of interior decorating is just as bad, if not worse, than this excuse for an adult woman's bedroom." A moment of pause, a slight smirk. "I just have to wonder, do you decorate better than Ms. Cohen of the Mystic Wonders?"

"How did you—?" she caught sight of what he was looking at, the crystals that hung in front of the window, casting prisms of light as they turned slowly, twirling and casting off flashes of bright reds and greens and blues. "Yeah, well, Amy's never been ashamed of her ideas… it's good, really, but sometimes it's tiring when she starts on a tirade against male oppression in early Christianity."

Adam Chandler grinned, yet again, and it made her work to keep from responding in kind. "There's something you should know, Ms. Kincaide… about our deal concerning the club of yours…" He paused for dramatic effect for a moment before opening his mouth and starting, only to be interrupted by Martin's blonde brat.

"Grandpa!"

Joe, hot on her heels, had a split second to shake his head furiously and wave his arms before, with a happy, joyful shriek, Cady/Kate/whatever-her-name-was launched herself forward, locking her arms around a startled looking Adam Chandler's leg, sighing and beaming up at him.

Joe Martin looked like he would have happily committed murder and Micaela bit back a sudden urge to point at the two older men and giggle mercilessly… she was, however, able to remain calm and stood, staring in amusement as Joe Martin crossed into the room, bent and gathered Cady/Kate/whatever-her-name-was, holding her close, giving Adam Chandler a lightly dirty look.

"That's not grandpa," Joe told her but the child frowned before pointing at Adam Chandler and once again insisting that he was, indeed, grandpa. "No, sweetie." He caught her small hand, held it to the chest before smiling brightly at her. "I am your grandpa and Ruth is your grandma."

The child just looked at him like he was crazy before offering a brilliant grin to Adam who rolled his eyes, muttering something about martin's spawn. Joe, for his part, had noticed how close Adam was standing to Micaela and he narrowed his eyes with disgust. "Oh, Adam, wasn't Dixie young enough for you?"

Micaela wrinkled her nose, eying Adam, who seemed to be unable to even believe Joe's suggestion about what he was doing in an empty bedroom with a young woman. "Don't worry, Pops, I ain't gonna be seduced by Mr. All-I-Want-For-Christmas-Is-A-Flesh-And-Blood-Heir," she offered, stepping away from the muttering Chandler and closer to Joe, who she suddenly actually recognized. "You would be the man who's given Amy a place."

"She's a lovely girl, really."

"Yeah, she's annoying as Hell." Micaela grinned slightly, lifting her eyebrows as she nodded her chin towards the inside of Amy's new little home. "I just want you to know how thankful I am over what you offered her, especially after that maniac went after her at the Pine Cone. And, may I ask, have the dork police in this town found the said maniac yet?"

"Not enough," the elderly man offered sadly and Micaela sighed, expecting as much.

"You really think I'd go after a woman this young!"

Both Kincaide and Martin ignored Adam, continuing their chat as Cady/Kate/whatever-her-name-was fought to get down. With a pained noise, he let her down, and she offered a wave and shriek of "bye-bye Grandpa!" before heading back down the stairs to the reunion.

Joe sighed, hanging his head in the quiet pain of not being accepted as the loved and beloved 'grandpa'. Micaela patted his arm in comfort, leading him out of the room. A few minutes later, Adam followed, not yet giving up announcing his news to Kincaide only to be dragged out of the Martin house by Brooke.

He hated family reunions, seriously… they always interfered with his precious plans.

* * *

Ruth hadn't cooked the food that was now sitting out in the living room but she had cooked breakfast earlier and Tad could smell it as he stared down at the counter beneath his palms. He studied it more intently, something he could focus on other than the woman out there who hated him.

Well, not yet… but she would, right?

Tad cleared his throat, letting out his breath as a sigh, focusing more forcefully on the table beneath his hands, something that would never hate him. Well, not unless he went after it with a buzz saw or something else like a buzz saw or something like that but even then, tables don't exactly hate, right?

No, as far as Tad knew, very few inanimate objects tended to hate people.

He jerked when the door swung in, JR stalking in and pinning Tad with a chilly look. Once again, it was clear without words that Tad meant nothing to him, not anymore and he eyed Adam Chandler's son quietly, who simply stared back with a shuttered gaze. No trust there, nothing other than a careful blankness that held nothing.

"What, you're hiding in here while your ex is out there being stampeded by obsessive family members?" Finally, there was an emotion there and it was irritation and anger, a perfect mix and it was like another blow to him, something that threatened to make him break.

"I'm thinking."

JR cocked an eyebrow, regarding him silently for a few minutes. Tad could just imagine what he was thinking right now, seeing the man who loved Dixie sooooo much in the kitchen, bitching silently about something or other. Didn't fit the profile of someone who loved Dixie the way he said he did and always would right?

Nothing really clicked anymore and he remembered how many times he had sat out there in the living room, playing with the puzzle with Joe while Ruth fussed over him. He remembered thinking that he wanted to complain about the spoiling except he hadn't wanted to… it was going to end soon anyway because things like that always did.

It hadn't ended; Joe and Ruth hadn't kicked him out on his Keister when they got tired of him. Tad looked away from Dixie's son, staring down at his hands for long moments, considering. "You're a Pin right, Martin—"

Lord, he sounded just like Adam, didn't he?

"—so why don't you do what you get paid or and ask a few questions for me, huh?"

Sounded just like Adam, looked like Adam as he stood there, head cocked and eyes frozen, in the stance and the way he spoke. Still, it was something to focus on other than his ex that—_hey, happy day, by the way!_—was standing right in the next room and the child he wanted to pick up and hug and never let go of because what if he lost her again, right? "What kind of questions?"

Silence and he didn't look up again, didn't want to, proud as he was of how mellow his voice had been when he had responded. "How about the fact that my mother has spent the last years thinking that was nearly killed in a car accident and had her face changed. However, there isn't a single fracture or break that I can see in her x-rays and, as you can no doubt see, there isn't any real difference in her face."

He heard the door swing, heard him vanish again and continued to stare down at the counter because it really was so very fascinating, you know? He could hear the talking and voices, hear the female child's shriek for 'Grandpa' and, swallowing, he left through the back door, fleeing to cower in whatever empty place he could find.

* * *

Vivianne James, sitting in the rental car provided by JR Chandler, studied the file on Janine Benson. There were quite a few things interesting about Janine Benson and she sat with her feet propped up on the dashboard, eyes scanning history and accomplishments, of which there were many.

She had qualified herself at an early age, escaping from an abusive father. Her brother had been arrested several times for drunk and disorderly conduct, one or two DUIs, and a few public intoxications just to even it all out. He looked like a real sweetie, she noted with a quiet amusement.

Thoughtfully, she shut the file, set it aside and selected another one, flipping it open and riffling through papers with actual interest. She found herself looking into public and medical records with a true fascination. She had done her job, gotten Dixie Cooney and Cady/Kate home where they were supposed to be but it seemed JR Chandler had the same thoughts she was having.

There was a period where, for all intents and purposes Dixie Cooney and baby Cooney had been no where but, of course, there was no such place as 'nowhere'. The first thing Vi had learned in her job was that everyone was somewhere and this, she knew, was no different.

So the question remained and it remained with a new job from JR Chandler and a very nice bonus. And the question was, of course, where was Dixie Cooney and her infant, premature daughter for nearly a week before getting to the hospital with baby Kate fine and dandy and completely healthy?

And why the Hell would they make her think she had changed her face when she hadn't?


	29. Chapter 29

_**A Love Story**_

29)

What memories she had of Adam were surprisingly clear, images that, although shuffled and mingled, nonetheless told her a lot about whatever her connection was to JR's father, the father of her son. She itched to run over and listen in to whatever he and Brooke English were talking about but she remained standing by the threshold to the living room, wondering what the hell JR and her daughter were doing up there.

She'd adjusted extremely well to the fact that she was a Dixie and while she cringed at the jokes that she would no doubt be hearing, the name fit her in some way that she couldn't understand and didn't think she could explain no matter how hard she might try. However, she doubted that her daughter would feel such ease in shifting from one name to another… what, would they spend the rest of their lives calling her 'Cady/Kate'?

Considering her daughter's idea of fun…

Dixie picked at the bottom of her top, forcing herself not to find some way to listen in on the conversation and then looked up the stairs, sighing and again thinking about whatever they were doing up there. Finally, worry growing with every second, she finally headed up, catching sight of her daughter as the little girl darted into a room and disappeared.

* * *

Panic was the great understatement for what she felt as she stared down at her cell phone, eyes wide as the realization that Greenlee was not going to be there at the casino, would not be there to keep Ryan busy so she could talk to Zach about everything and explain what he had seen when he come into the condo and took her by surprise sank into her skull.

Greenlee wouldn't be there and Ryan would no doubt take the change to charge in and 'rescue' her from big, bad wolf Zach…

_Oh god, oh god, oh god…_ it was bad enough that she was going to do this but now she had to do this with Greenlee AWOL and Ryan on her ass and no doubt Mom there in her Lavery uniform, waving pom-poms and cheering Ryan on! With a strangled shriek, Kendall flung her cell phone into the chair at her side and began to slam her palm down on the horn of her car angrily, swearing and cursing.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god…_

* * *

Winifred hadn't gone near the nursery, something he saw with a flood of relief and a loosening of his fists as he hovered near the door, staring into the dimly lit room and eyes finally stilling at the dark shape of the empty crib. He stared at it for long moments before stepping in and then stopping again, weak at the sight of it.

The room was still his haven, the only safe spot he had and he stood silent, gripping the edge and contemplating the pillow and blankets. His eyes, lowering, caught sight of the stuffed dog lying at his feet and he kicked it under the crib, hiding it from sight and closing his eyes, letting out his breath in a quiet, defeated noise.

When would he stop waking up and going into the nursery to wake up Bess?

When the door creaked, spilling light in, he jerked, staring at Cady, at his little Kate, who stood staring at him with large blue eyes that flared with excitement when she spotted the crib and before he could stop her, she streaked across the shadows and peeked through the bars for a moment before she offered him a baffled look.

"Where's the baby?"

It was good question and he looked away, knowing the answer but not knowing and it hit him, yet again, a painful blow to his inside that hurt even more than before as he worked to figure out how to put the knowledge into words that she could understand. She didn't know about Bess, didn't know about his son and he wished that she never knew, that she'd never know because what kind of way to grow up was that, right?

"I don't have a baby," he finally got out, his voice rough and his knuckles white as he gripped the crib. There it was again, a painful wrench of emotion that made his throat close up and his chest tighten, made his eyes burn and his body shake the smallest bit, physically resisting everything that he knew had to be a lie because he would feel it, wouldn't he?

"But you have a crib…" There was an edge of amused accusation and he knew she was smiling, knew she was grinning, eyes sparkling at his foolishness and his strangeness, knowing that if you have a crib then you must have a baby because that was how these things worked, right?

"Kate."

She spun, blinking at her mother standing in the doorway and she wrinkled her nose at the sound of her full name in her mother's sharp tone and then looked back at her brother, deciding that, yes, he was lying and that there was a baby because there was a crib. Then she jumped when her mother's voice came again, even sharper and truly angry now.

"_Kate!"_

When her daughter just gave her a look, Dixie sucked in a breath and strode into the room, grabbing the girl by the shoulders and spinning her, and the girl finally got the message that her mother truly wasn't playing around. "Momma…"

"Come on Kate, it's time for bed and you're probably exhausted," Dixie snapped softly, grabbing her by the hand and leading her out of the room, glancing once more at the silent mourner before leaving with the girl that was now insisting, through yawns and eye-rubbing, that she was not at all tired.

And he was left to stand by the empty crib in silence, breath coming harshly and working to calm the way his pulse by pounding before he caught up the pillow, holding it for long moments as he worked it all back. It always worked and this time was no different as he folded it all away and pushed it to the back of mind.

Pushed it back into the part of his mind that held the memories of Tad before he ruined it all and Jamie before he abandoned him and everyone else who had proved what he had always known and stopped loving him when Dixie hadn't been around because that the only reason he mattered to them, just as Tad's way to get to her.

It didn't help, not really, but it also didn't hurt anymore and he carefully set the pillow back down, laid it carefully down and checked it yet again before grabbing the music box and stuffed dog from the floor. Stepping out of the room, he shut it carefully before heading down the hall, and noting with relief that his mother was stepping out now, stilling when she spotted him. "JR—"

He ignored her, she didn't matter, and stepped into where she was laying, and looking bored as she glared up at the ceiling, stifling a yawn when she raised her head to regard him sadly. "Did I do something wrong?"

He shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bad and studying her intently, knowing full well that Bess wouldn't have had blonde hair and blue eyes because she had never really existed in the first place, had she? But Kate did, no matter what her name was, and who said he couldn't have her?

His first movement consisted of tucking her in even though she already was, handing her the stuffed dog and pushing hair from her face, clearing it away before setting up the music box on the table beside her massive bed, one of his father's extras and decided that he would go out and buy her new bedding tomorrow and a dog bed so that her dog could sleep in here…

Standing at the doorway and staring in, Dixie frowned to herself, glancing at the closed off nursery before looking back at her son, who was whispering to her daughter and worry filling her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest, biting her bottom lip and considering the new concern clouding her mind, erasing the earlier thoughts of Switzerland and why she was dreaming of fire even though she hadn't been in the crash.

* * *

The decision to invite Maxie to the casino wasn't what was making Zach Slater feel like a nervous teenage boy. No, the reason he had spent an hour picking at his lunch and then another hour picking at his work had everything to do with the fact that Kendall Hart-Slater, his wife, would be there tonight.

He'd had dates when he had been younger, been shoved into suits and ties by his father to pay fake compliments to rich young women from the moment he had turned fifteen. He'd been introduced to herds of rich young women simply because he was the chosen son, the special one while Mikey had been thrown a bone once in a while when Alexander got bored.

The last months before he had left his name behind had been some of the harshest of his life and he found himself looking back on those months with a mixture of disgust and hatred, repulsed that he had grown to such weaknesses that he had sunk so low just to feel something, anything, other than that self-hatred.

Self-hatred that came to him every time Mikey got a nasty retort while he was taken into his Father's office for a private business lesson or got to visit his mother while Mikey got stuck in a house with an army of maids who had given him hints of pity and pats on the head, half-hearted comfort that came because their pay was so good.

He had sunk low and gone to desperate measures as the emotions had grown, swallowing him whole and ripping him open, leaving him to feel empty and hollowed, like someone who had nothing left and he had finally broke, finally run and left it all behind, killed Alexander Cambias Jr. and never looked back because it was too easy to sink into the place again simply by the memory of watching Mikey stand in the front hall as he left to visit his mother, the little boy gazing up at him with tear-filled eyes.

These feelings were new and deeply, deeply frightening. They made the warmth he felt for Maureen pale in comparison. The touch of a hand or a hint of her laughter were enough to make his breathing come more quickly and, although it was delightful on some level, it was also, in the most basic explanation, making him freak out.

He ended up spending an hour and a half searching for the right suit and was about five seconds away from finally slamming his head against the wall before Edie had suddenly dropped by, armed with a new suit and Thai food and taking full and complete charge of the fumbling male who had found himself stranded in a bedroom in the middle of every suit he owned and ties hanging from lamps and other objects.

Edie was the closest thing he'd ever had as a friend and he'd shocked her when, after she'd finished straightening his crooked tie, he'd flung his arms around her and squeezed her so tightly that she had uttered a squeak of pain at the feel of her ribs beginning to puncture her lungs.

Now, fiddling with the goddamned tie that he was sure Kendall wouldn't like, he sat at his desk at the casino, hoping Edie wouldn't realize he was hiding and drag him out because, damn it, Kendall was somewhere out there and he had no doubt he would be mumbling because as much as he sometimes thought she looked at him with something more than an amused exasperation, he still remembered the fact that she was still apparently worshipping Ryan Lavery and his stupid pictures.

And he was stupid to get so excited over her being somewhere in the casino that they owned.

* * *

Erica's first plan—Operation Guilt-Kendall-Into-Divorce-By-Way-Of-Fake-Madness—had been a miserable failure and she had unhappily been forced to admit that such a plan would not work with Kendall or Zach. Zach, bastard that he was, had shown her how easy it was him to see through her play by having a wrapped straight jacket delivered to her office.

Erica was not a happy Kane.

Now, glaring at the photo that had been e-mailed by one of her assistants, Erica decided that she would need someone to help her destroy this crap called a marriage. Edie Harrison had been spotted not once but twice consorting with Myrtle and, as much as Erica adored Myrtle Fargate, this simply meant war.

Standing and crossing to the phone, she once again played Ryan's message, his voice revealing a raw sort of panic as he explained his worries about the marriage and Zach Slater and what all was going to happen when Kendall saw Slater for the man he really was. It was fear in Ryan's voice, and pain and she knew the feeling well.

He'd made a mistake but that, fortunately, didn't change the fact that he was the only man in the world who could truly make Kendall happy and feel truly loved and Erica was not going to let those two lose each other again, not after all this and not now that they needed each other the most.

She nodded to herself sharply before heading down the hall, opening and yanking off her robe as she stepped into the bathroom and started the shower. She could scheme like no other person in Pine Valley and now, with a smile of joy at her new idea and at knowing how well it would work, she planned what she was going to say to get Bianca to help her.

* * *

Adam Chandler, with Brooke effectively out of the mansion, found himself prey to horrible thoughts of that child running around, calling him grandpa and then making him give her twenties when she went out with her friends in ten years. Memories of Hayley had never been forgotten and who could forget Skye's teenage years?

When he found the slightest hint of a smile working its way onto his features, Adam took a sip of his alcohol, booze really, and the burn effectively eased the touch of amusement that the thought of the child had brought on in his very small but surprisingly powerful paternal neural pathways.

"Adam."

Spinning where he stood staring at the fire like a guilty five year old with his hand in the cookie jar, he blinked at the sight of Dixie taking full charge of his living room, having some very strong flashbacks and wondering how in the world he had thought she was a pitiful creature when he'd caught sight of her in Switzerland.

There was nothing pitiful or cautious about her as she strode forward, snatched the glass from his hand and set it aside, pinning him with a strong gaze that he had seen JR give Colby when she had decided that it would be fun to color the walls when Liza was out, probably trying to bonk Martin, like he was such a fine catch right?

He had also seen JR give it to Bess numerous times, easily making the happy little girl stop whatever chaos she was trying to bring on and pinning her long enough to scoop her up and find her something better to do then destroy Adam's priceless collection of Civil War antiquities by way of sticky fingers.

"We need to talk to JR."

He didn't want to talk to JR.

She must have seen this on his face for she gave a disgusted noise and easily kept him from moving around by a slight shift, crossing arms over her chest and giving him the look. Damn, he hated the look, another thing that JR had inherited from his mother and dealt out fearlessly, especially when Adam got on his last nerve.

"Adam, JR is not handling—" She stopped, going quiet when they heard JR's footsteps coming down the stairs and then he stopped at the doorway, blinking the familiar sight of Adam cowering slightly and his mother in full mother-mode, both staring at him with wide, too-innocent-to-be-innocent gazes.

Who said he needed kids when he had them to take care of?

"What are you two—?"

It was JR's cell phone, buzzing suddenly, that saved the Chandler and Cooney from dodging him and he cast them a dirty look before stepping out of the room, shutting the door before answering Kendall's panicked call that basically consisted of her freaking and insisting that he come and offer her a backbone when she tried to tell Zach that she had feelings for him.

The next five minutes consisted of his mother shoving him up the stairs to get dressed so he could get out of the house and she and Adam could continue their conversation without him. Besides, as Dixie repeated repeatedly as she shoved him out the front door and into his car, he needed to get out and about.

And so JR found himself acting as Kendall's backbone during the night of hell at the casino while at the Tempo building, Brooke met with Buck Kincaide, newly arrived and not yet having told his daughter that he was there. Mainly because he wasn't for her, per se, as he was to save her eternal soul, and money, from Adam Chandler.


	30. Chapter 30

_**A Love Story**_

30)

"_What if I lose it?"_

_He studied her silently, watching her fiddle with the emerald thoughtfully, a slightly awed look on her face before she caught him staring at her so intently and dropped her hands, and the ring, to her lap, clearing her throat. He picked at the thin material of his hospital gown, thankful for the dimness of the lights above them. "You won't lose it, Micaela."_

_She looked small and pitiful where she sat by his bed, inspecting the ring with nervous fingers and gazing at him with large brown eyes, large and dark and beautiful and he mused again on how he'd one day have to beat back the boys with a stick to keep them away from her. "It's so little and if I drop it, I'll never find it again."_

"_I got it for you…"_

"_Pa…" There were shades of her hormones coming into play in the way she dragged out his name, hints of what was coming on so quickly for him. Funny how it took being shot in the head to make you realize that your daughter was slowly becoming a... ahem, a young woman._

_He reached out and took her hand, carefully picking up the ring and studying it for a moment before turning her hand and slipping it on her finger. He stopped, regarding her for a moment before holding up her hand for silent inspection. "I don't want you to pull this 'I don't need anything' crap today, Micaela. This is my gift to you. You were supposed to get it on your sixteenth birthday but, considering how we've spent our Christmas…"_

_The look she gave him made him chuckle but she stopped her complaining and martyring and folded her hand carefully, setting it in her lap. She looked as expected after the last months they had gone through, sleeplessness having left her with heavy bags beneath her dark eye and her skin paler than it should be, usually light brown skin almost paper white in the glaring brightness of the hospital lights._

_He looked away, looked past her out the window at the Dallas landscape beyond the hospital and his hand moved, one palm coming to rest over his heart and closing his eyes for a moment. "This heart, Micaela, is a traitor…"_

"_You've got a good heart…" A pause, hesitancy before she cautiously continued. "The bullet in your head was the problem, Pa, not your heart." Another silence, a sigh. "I think you've got a good heart."_

"_They didn't even do their job," he muttered softly, once again, his annoyance coming into play, annoyance caused by the panic he had felt when he had fully realized how bad it was, how quickly he had gone downhill, even as quickly as they had gotten him to the hospital. "What kind of brain surgeons can't even get out all the pieces of bullet…? What do you think, shall we raise some Hell for these yuppies?"_

_When he looked back at her, she was staring at him. "They did a very good job," she murmured and then fell silent, gazing at him with eyes that were finally beginning to crumble, now that he was going to be fine and she knew it and didn't have to pretend anymore. Why now…? Why after all these years, when all that fear of not knowing where he was at all times was finally fading…? Who would do this now…?_

_Damn… damn… damn…_

_When he opened his arms, she left the chair, slipping into the uncomfortable bed and curling up at his side and he grimaced at how she felt, no longer the tiny child who would insist that he wear a crown and a cowboy hat together when they played pretty-cowboy-princess together. The one who would stare up at his horses with wide eyes and then squeak in terror when one moved forward towards her, snorting and tossing a mane._

_Now she was riding, had her own horse, no longer needed him to lead Calamity around the pen with a rope, no longer had to help her climb up into the saddle. It was painful, and he swallowed it back, forced it down, thankful she couldn't see him get so sentimental. She'd always be the child who had leaped into him arms that day, screaming and sobbing, begging him not to ever, ever leave her ever again._

_He hadn't been the one who'd left but she'd been too young to really understand that, although she understood it now, grasped the full mechanics of what Lynette had done that night when she'd hurt him the only he could be hurt, using his one weakness against him so easily and so flawlessly, effectively destroying whatever sense of control he'd managed to build for himself in the years since he'd come home from Dallas, from the hospital he was in now._

"_I can't wait to leave this godforsaken place," he mumbled and she nodded, still silent but having her presence known, as if he could ever forget about her. "Go home to the ranch, to real food and real beds and we'll never have to see that damn nurse again with the pinched face and high-pitched voice again."_

"_Thank god," she added and he ran a hand up and down her back, a warm movement of silent comfort, an unspoken promise that her fears were unconfirmed and she had nothing to worry about, not anymore. "I hate that stupid nurse…" She shifted, glanced up at him with a dirty look. "I really don't like her."_

"_Nobody does, baby… nobody does…" He cocked an eyebrow, offered her a broad smile that was pure Buck Kincaide. "You can pick my nurse, though… I trust you know my type." Micaela gave a snort of laughter, shaking her head in amusement. "Blonde, shapely, pretty but smart, intelligent…"_

"_Yeah… yeah, yeah… I know the type."_

* * *

Brooke waited in silence as Buck Kincaide reviewed the documents that Stuart had sneaked her and then leaned back to think, letting out a quiet sigh and studying her with eyes that were almost too intelligent. He seemed like a man who had looked too old too soon and, while he displayed a strong build and carried himself easily, there was something intensely exposed about the glasses he had put on to read. 

Buck looked like someone who had been through everything that the tabloids said he had been through, although she highly doubted he'd ever carried on a secret affair with Elvis' long-lost daughter. As she watched, silently, he finally straightened and set aside the glasses, eying her thoughtfully.

"And this is completely legal?"

"Yes." She sighed, tapping her pen on the papers and nodding. "He owns all rights to the club and, as of right now, he basically has total control over most of the aspects of the Foundation."

"I don't get that," he murmured quietly and shook his head, rubbing a thumb along his lip absently, eyes glittering as they studied her. "Micaela would have run to me for help by now, and we'd have our lawyers on it. She may have short periods of stupidity—as you can tell from our current problems—but she's intelligent and I've taught her everything I know."

"Mr. Kincaide—"

"Buck," he interjected smoothly and she paused for a moment before continuing. "_Buck_, I think Adam's gone out of his way to keep her from knowing anything about it. And, to judge by the fact that her personal lawyer is currently vacationing in Acapulco—"

"Oh for…"

"Adam paid him off, Buck, I'd bet money on it. Not only that, but your daughter was recently arrested for hitting JR Chandler's car. Adam has gone out of his way to get control of whatever hope for this club that she has and has also found himself with a rather impressive hold on her charity, I'd say that he's decided that she must suffer."

"She isn't the one he's actually trying to hurt."

Well, at least he understood but then, why wouldn't he? Brooke could well remember the papers, the heavy news coverage about the Kincaide kidnapping. Could remember it being on every channel when they had finally tracked down the two and brought her home to her father. Some people had forgotten it but it was still a big deal for some, how she had able to evade the resources he had at hand as long as she had.

The Buchanan baby was making the same coverage although it was quieting now, some of them insisting that there was no longer any point to look anyway, since very few children who went missing that long were brought back in any form. Still, Kincaide had gotten his child back so who was to say the same couldn't happen for Kevin and Kelly Buchanan?

Brooke had no doubt that, if he could, Adam would be sending everybody he had out after Babe and Jamie. If it was only Babe, Brooke probably would have sat on the sidelines, munched on popcorn and cheered him on the whole time. Unfortunately, Jamie was out there too and he was with Babe… again, unfortunately.

* * *

Maxie and Harley, working in tandem, were a force to be reckoned with and tonight, working in tandem, they were a force of nature… albeit in high heels and bad wigs. Or, bad _wig_, since Harley was the one sporting the truly hideous disguise that consisted of black wig, bad heels and extremely disturbing make-up. 

There were very few things she wouldn't do for Maxie and this time was no different, checking her reflection once more in the mirror before, nodding to herself, she looped the massive bag over her one shoulder and headed for the door of the restroom, slipping out and slinking quickly and effortlessly through the maze of the casino corridors.

This was Harley's life, running around, committing crimes so that precious Maxie didn't break a nail. And she, if she did say so herself, had become good at it. From her first foray into crime—helping Maxie seduce that dunce who worked for Kincaide—she had responded to every danger with the utmost amount of grace and flawlessness.

Dig up some dirt on Slater while Maxie got herself that proof she needed so damn badly.

As far as Maxie was concerned, Ethan Ramsey was just a means to an end. After all, he had shown since arriving in Pine Valley to be a surprisingly loyal friend to Kendall Hart—who had great legs by the way—and was one of those who frequently rallied to the Kendall Hart Cause.

When a red-headed broad who looked as old as dirt and a black chick came around the corner she spun, studying a picture framed of some kind of weird squiggles and dots, what apparently constituted as fine art in this town. And when the black woman stopped, turning to the tall woman so damn fascinated by the stupid picture, Harley found herself under the threat of the most fearsome gaze she had ever encountered.

By the time the two women had wandered off, Harley was pretty much plotting her death.

After that, it was easy as pie to get into Slater's office and dropped into his seat—noting as she did how comfortable it was—immediately beginning to search the desk and then sliding open the drawers to flick carefully through the files, noting with growing wariness how well-organized the guy was.

In her experience, the only men who were this anal were either gay or in sore need of a good lay. Seeing as how he had not at all responded to her carefully groomed cleavage, she decided with a chuckle that he had to be gay… no way a straight guy could resist her. Harley highly doubted a guy like that was ever lacking in the sex department.

So he must be gay.

There was nothing, not a single hint of anything that had to do with mob activity or dirty dealings or swimming with the fishes or putting horse heads in beds or other stuff like that… nothing! Leaning back in the chair, she frowned, contemplating before leaving his office, digging out her cell phone as she did.

* * *

There was a surprisingly large amount of pictures decorating the inside of the mansion and Dixie let her eyes absorb one after another, studying some faces she didn't recognize and others that made her nerves twang with a nervous, giddy energy that caused her fingers to twist. 

Older pictures of a red-haired girl with large eyes and many times holding a porcelain doll; other pictures of two blondes, one older and sometimes carrying a son or sons. One snapshot of a disturbingly frightening black hair-do that reminded Dixie of a porcupine that was half-hidden behind a few others.

The other blonde, smaller and sweeter somehow, sitting on Adam's lap or, in Dixie's favorite, settled on JR's hip, kissing him on the cheek and arms twined around his neck. Almost all of her shots included her in pink or denim, blonde hair soft and swept from her hair.

A lot of pictures of JR, varying ages from infanthood to childhood, a smiling boy with slightly brittle blue eyes and, in most cases, a darker-haired boy held protectively at a side, one arm draped over shoulders. On the corner of the mantle, she noticed the one framed and prominently displayed, of JR and Adam, looking far more relaxed and happy then they seemed to be now.

"I think that one's my favorite."

Dixie glanced over her shoulder before turning to watch as Adam stepped forward, nodding to the picture of him and JR. "We had quite a few taken since he came home to us but..." Behind them, Winifred was setting a tray down, setting out the food and drinks. When she caught Dixie's sight, she beamed, waving joyfully before quickly darting away, looking embarrassed by her slip of excitement.

Dixie felt slightly guilty not remembering the woman who looked so excited by her being back in the mansion.

"But what?" she murmured.

"Nothing for you to worry about..." She was silent, the anger earlier brought on by the nagging worry at the sight of her son in the nursery faded by the silence she had stood in while he had left the room to get them food. When he left her side, backed away to settle on the couch, she could feel his eyes on her, a mix of wariness and jealousy and an edge of panicked desperation that made her stomach flip unhappily.

Dixie had the unhappy understanding that her relationship with Adam was hardly stable.

Settling into the chair opposite him, she watched in silence as he picked at a piece of something that looked expensive but tasteless, the kind of thing that Adam always liked simply because it was another way that he could show his own height of power and control without need of words or fists.

Adam actually looked old, looked his age, and it was disturbing, on several layers, in several ways to see touches of weakness like that on someone who kept such forceful control on himself. She took a deep breath, leaning forward to observe him better, studying him with gentle but sharp blue eyes.

"Adam… Adam, what happened to our son?"

* * *

JR would have liked to have taken the pills with some kind of beverage, preferably water but didn't worry about it, swallowing his pain medication dry with a grimace and rubbing his face as he gazed at the casino rapidly filling with people. What he wouldn't do to go run back to the mansion and curl up somewhere that no one could find him. 

But this was Kendall; the woman who had stood by his side through everything, from Babe's lies to Babe's lies to Babe's lies and let us not forget Babe's lies shall we? Snorting quietly, bitterly, JR studied the female form pacing restlessly at the entrance, checking her watch every few seconds.

Finally, putting the medication under his seat, he got out of the car, slamming the door and starting towards Kendall, she immediately spun and stared at him, silent for a few moments, before, darting forward a couple steps, she slipped arms around him and it was surprisingly, painfully okay for a few moments.

Here was one who understood.

He held on as long as he could, palms spread along her back and chin on her shoulder, but she moved away, stepped back and that change, small as it was, was like a blow to his insides, making his control waver for a few moments as she looked at the ground, at her heels, at everywhere other than him.

"So," he managed quietly, "how are you?"

* * *

_AN: My reviews seem to be falling... am I not worth a review? Please... give me and my Muse a review... I promise the Zex and the Sethan is coming! Review!_


	31. Chapter 31

_**A Love Story**_

31)

_Slipping in, he stilled his eyes on the shape that had finally fallen asleep, months of emotional and physical exhaustion having worn her down until even all that anger had been eased. Walking past the wreckage of the room, books shredded and clothes strewn about, he eyed the small form for a few moments._

_It was with careful tenderness that he pushed her leg, dangling off the edge, onto the bed before shaking out the blanket at the foot of the bed, settling it on top of her with as much caution as he could manage, working not to wake her from the sleep she had gotten in months._

_And there he stopped, watching her, thinking, simply considering. "Don't worry about it," he whispered finally, sliding fingers back through black hair, trying to comfort beyond words that could be used so easily. "Don't worry about me… I'm not worth it," he murmured, and the emotion was just enough, making his voice waver._

_Forcing it down, refusing to give power to those thoughts that came so clearly now, Buck stepped back from her, eying the tabloids with disgust. He gathered them, at least what remained from when she had finally lost her own tenuous hold on herself and took them out with him, dropping them into one of the metal wastebaskets._

_Any paper found met the same end, tossed in and then drenched in one of his fine Scotch's, finally set aflame to burn to ashes in the backyard of their home, smoke dissipating quickly while he packed their bags, intent to give her some sense of control, even if it came in the form of a vacation to some tropical place._

_He'd no doubt have to drag her kicking and screaming there, obsessed as she was becoming with keeping him hidden away and secret. It wasn't supposed to be like this, a girl wasn't supposed to grow up like this, fighting just to keep herself safe on the most base level._

_If he had to have someone carry her, Micaela was going with him. He didn't know where yet, not yet, but he'd come up with something when they got to the airport, come up with something as soon as they got out of Dallas. Dallas was home but it wasn't safe anymore, not for her and he could see it as easily as he saw the bags she was beginning to have under her eyes._

_Home was with his daughter, wherever that was._

* * *

"You can't keep doing this." 

She ignored her mother, continued to gaze out the windshield, desperately holding back the emotions making her want to just scream, just throw back her head and scream until everything had stopped, until her heart stopped aching and her head finally stopped feeling like it was too small for her brain.

The tears were harder to fight back and she reached up angrily, swiping one tear away hard enough to hit herself in the face.

When her mother set her hand on her shoulder, she jerked, flinging herself to the other side of the car and regarding the older woman with angry eyes and a flushed red face. As much as she might try, Colby didn't have Adam's control when it came to emotion and it showed these days, more easily, with each break in her sense of self.

"Colby—"

"I thought I was Janice this week," she ground out, barely keeping her voice from breaking under the flood of sensations coursing through her system, making the blood pound in her ears and the feel of her nails digging into her clothes, holding onto anything she could to keep from slipping away when it all broke under her.

"Colby, don't—"

"I want to go home."

There it was, everything put into a single sentence that made her mother go silent for some moments, eying her with pity. Knowing it was useless, knowing there was no point, Colby strangled back her next words and grabbed onto the door, opening it and climbing out. Slamming it shut, not caring if her mother stayed out there all night, Colby wrapped her arms tightly around herself before trudging back up to the place where it lived, the place that they called home. Wasn't home… never would be home. Home, no matter how battle-scarred or war torn, was always warm, was always the one place you wanted to go to.

Overhead, there was a rumble, the last warning before the first drops began to fall, slow at first and then with more force, making it hard to see and it was useless anyway. All the lights were out, nothing left and she hesitated, staring up at the farmhouse with a beaten kind of anguish, something that was getting harder and harder to control and hold onto when things ended like this.

But she was a Chandler, whether her mother liked it or not and, taking a quite breath, she let it out softly, not feeling the downpour she now stood in, blonde hair turning dark as it clung to her face and neck and back. The chill actually helped her, cooling that devastating heat that had been burning her from the inside out and she considered.

Wouldn't work forever and she knew it. Every time she ran, it got harder for her mother to find her, drag her back because, the simple fact was, she was getting more desperate with each passing day. It wasn't just her, not anymore. JR too… it was JR and it was Dad and what, was she just supposed to sit back and smile and laugh while her brother suffered and her father suffered when she should be able to get back to them, somehow, fight her way back to them?

With a renewed sense of purpose and new ideas beginning to soothe her tangled nerves, she entered the house and began to come up with ways to find her way home.

* * *

Palmer Cortlandt owned a very nice collection of cars and, grinning like an idiot, his son stood, eying the beauty before him with a lust-filled gaze, jingling the keys excitedly. Darting forward, he unlocked it, loving the electronic _beep-beep_ that sounded, and climbed into the front seat, noting with slight annoyance how he had to stretch his feet to the pedals. 

Peter Cortlandt, sadly, had not yet inherited his mother's height.

The car smelled beautiful, he decided, still grinning like a loon and he ran fingers along the steering wheel, fingering it and letting out a delighted 'ooh' at the feel of it. Okay, fine, maybe Petey had a disturbing amount of lust when it came to the BMW but could anyone really blame him?

No, he thought with an odd shiver of giddiness, no one would dare bitch about his love for the BMW…

It was only a matter of time until he got his chance to drive this thing, just a few more years left, if that and it would be his… hell he could see himself now… driving… showing exactly who the Cortlandt in this town really is… Petey grinned to himself, nodding in pleasure, leaning back in his seat as his hands tightened on the wheel…

"_Petey!"_

_He looked over, catching sight of Kendall and immediately grinning, leaning forward in his seat and letting his glasses drop forward to rest on the tip of his nose, a flawless movement of great and mighty manliness which, of course, Kendall saw. Fluffing her curls and popping her gum, she darted forward._

_Zach Slater and Ryan Lavery exchanged looks, the younger man scuffing his shoe on the cement. Zach just looked disgruntled as he spun on his heel and stomped off, muttering and swearing as he went. Ryan simply stood there and, when he noticed Kendall climb into the convertible, he shook his fist furiously._

_Chuckling, Petey scooted down, stretching out and, flashing a grin at the giggling brunette beside him, he took off, streaking through the streets of Pine Valley with his father's Devil-may-care attitude, fearless and flawless, with Kendall giggling and, every few minutes, she flung her arms up, giving a mighty shriek of 'Woo-hoo!'_

_This was perfect, this was right and—_

When someone slammed a palm against the window, Petey shrieked, flying around to stare wide-eyed at the blonde peering through the glass at him. Warily, like a jungle cat—at least as far as he was concerned—he opened the door, staring up at the woman with long blonde hair and cool eyes carrying a stack of papers under one arm.

"I'm looking for palmer Cortlandt."

For a moment he could only stare before remembering his father's words and offering her a cool look. "He was with me and my Mom last month on the fifth."

The look she gave him was almost lethal but he simply stared right back and, rolling her eyes, she poked him in the chest, studying him intently. "Tell me where you father is and I don't know anything about anything, especially not about anything from the fifth of last month… where's Palmer Cortlandt?"

"Playing with the dogs."

"Great," she muttered under her breath and, turning, she stalked away, vanishing into the _shadows_ of the garage. Finally, rolling his eyes, he closed the door, sinking back into the soft leather seat and gripping the wheel calmly. A few minutes later, grinning, he was back in his BMW fantasy.

_

* * *

A little less conversation, a little more action please  
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me  
A little more bite and a little less bark  
A little less fight and a little more spark  
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me  
Satisfy me baby _

Kendall had friends now in the casino and it paid off, easily landing her and JR a seat at the end of the bar. By the time the casino had been all but filled, they sat with their prospective drinks—Cosmo for Kendall and Scotch on the rocks for the Chandler—and JR was absently watching the milling masses at his back by way of the mirror that filled the wall behind the bar.

"So, what's with the Elvis in the background, anyway? I didn't really notice during _Jailhouse Rock_ and I enjoyed _Dixieland Rock_ but we've been listening to nothing but the King since I got here and I'm starting to wonder who it is that has the obsession."

Looking over, he studied her for a few moments before shrugging, tracing the edge of her glass with one fingertip, studying the way light flashed repeatedly off her rings as she did. "That would be Rob, one of Edie's favorites here. So, as her favorite, and since she is Zach's favorite, he's allowed to brainwash us all with He of the Blue Suede Shoes."

"Lovely," he murmured. He wasn't really bothered, after all, who didn't love and respect the King? But, the point was, he was more in the mood for the Mick Jagger or Steven Tyler. Plus, he had the horrible feeling that at any minute they were gonna go with some of Elvis' more depressing love songs and, really, JR wasn't in the mood for the _Heartbreak Hotel_ or _Are You Lonesome Tonight?_

"So," she asked lightly, leaning forward to pat JR's leg, "How was the Chiropractor?"

_

* * *

Baby close your eyes and listen to the music  
Drifting through a summer breeze  
It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it  
Come along with me and put your mind at ease _

Leaving Maggie Stone of the Midget League to huff and puff, Maxie made a beeline for the couple sitting some ways away. Okay, fine, Zach-y couldn't leave her some evidence to provide a nice distraction; she'd make her own distraction… and his attention too. And there was, she had learned early on, no way to get attention better than through simple sympathy.

Setting off, she got close enough and then twisted, achieving the desired effect when her ankle bent and she pitched forward, stumbling before slamming down onto her hands and knees. Yeah, not quite graceful or elegant but, when Ethan Ramsey immediately jumped up, surging forward to gather her up in his arms, she was only barely able to keep from grinning like that cat that got the canary.

Amazing how gentlemanly this guy was, she decided, letting out an embarrassed laugh as she straightened, leaning her weight against him, and bracing a hand against his chest. Simone Torres was looking at her like it meant war and she quickly looked up at the young man, easily working up a blush. "These heels are just killing me, can you tell?"

"It isn't the heels you gotta worry about, sister," Torres snapped and Ramsey looked over at her, frowning in displeasure. When Simone just glared at both of them, he sighed, bending and lifting up the 'injured' young woman and heading towards one of the couches that lined two of the walls.

Laying her down and stretching her out, he propped up the foot, slipping off the heel and absently instructing Simone to find some ice for the ankle. The look on the other woman's face was almost too much and Maxie had no choice but to duck her head, hiding her smile behind a curtain of dark hair.

"Simone, please… she needs ice for this foot."

There was only a muffled choking noise from the Cambias princess when Simone hissed an expletive and took off, swearing and cursing as she tore through the casino. "There, there," he comforted her, stroking the ankle as gently as he could, too sweet for his own good and not even smart enough to realize it.

_

* * *

A little less conversation, a little more action please  
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me  
A little more bite and a little less bark  
A little less fight and a little more spark  
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me  
Satisfy me baby  
_

Zach picked up the sounds of Elvis Presley sometime and bit back his weary sigh, knowing it was useless to worry about it. The hierarchy of the casino was a strange and ever-fluxing show of give-and-take and, as much he enjoyed his work, he refused to think about any of the odder, more peculiar ways that his employees showed their own power and displayed themselves to the outside world.

One of the most memorable things that Zach had ever included sitting behind his desk, watching with slightly glazed eyes as Edie proceeded to show off her own might and awe in the face of a swarm of young waitresses and waiters. She'd had no problem extending her own power over the males but it had taken some subtle looks and an immovable stance to get the young women to give in to her.

Edie, at times, displayed all the primal instincts and intense awareness of some large jungle cat.

When he wasn't around she flawlessly ruled the roost and, hell, even when he was at the casino, which was quite often, she tended to take a more active and intense role in the inner workings of the many branches concerning not only the gambling but the spa, the employee daycare center, the restaurants and, of course, customer service.

Stepping off the elevator, he searched for a moment and, finding no flash of curl, he headed across, stopping when he caught sight of the two people sitting at the bar, talking and gesturing furiously. He fought back the sudden urge to dive behind some potted plant and instead started fiddling with the bar, refusing to look her way.

_

* * *

Come on baby I'm tired of talking  
Grab your coat and let's start walking  
Come on, come on  
Come on, come on  
Come on, come on  
Don't procrastinate, don't articulate  
Girl it's getting late, gettin' upset waitin' around _

It took exactly two seconds for Kendall to realize that JR had not, like he had promised repeatedly, gone to a chiropractor. Swearing, she smacked his arm in a mix of annoyance and worry, and he gave her a dirty look, glaring right back as he shoved his drink out of the way. "It's none of you business, Kendall."

"It is if I care about you," she snapped in disgust before adding under her breath, "And God knows you make it hard sometimes."

"Yes, Ms. I'm-got-enough-abandonement-issues-to-support-a-mental-clinic-24-seven," he snarked and she rolled her eyes, studying him before narrowing her eyes. "Well, then, what are you taking?"

He gave her a look that she knew all too well, a look that tried so desperately to seem innocent that it gave away, very quickly, how guilty he really was. "Damn it, JR." she reached over, managed to stick her hands in two of his jacket pockets before he got the chance to smack her hands away angrily. "I don't want you on any pain medication."

"Medication, Kendall… medication, as in doctor-prescribed." Refusing to meet her eyes, he went back to studying the people milling around, simply enjoying being out on the town, probably happy to be away from kids. The thought made him snort softly, bitterly, shaking his head. "And it's working wonderfully, okay?"

"Uh-huh," she muttered. Any other time, she wouldn't really be worried, but with everything that had happened lately, the thought of him taking anything made her nerves tangle in wary warning. The last thing she needed was for him to slip back into his more unhealthy habits and, unfortunately, he was older and proved every day how much more daring he was than before.

Kendall was very suddenly, very deeply worried.

_

* * *

A little less conversation, a little more action please  
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me  
A little more bite and a little less bark  
A little less fight and a little more spark  
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me  
Satisfy me baby _

"Zach?"

_Wonderful_… bracing himself for anything she might throw at him, he turned around, regarding the small Kane with a cool hazel gaze. Looking as fine and elegant as always, she stood before him, smirk firmly in place and glare settled on her usually pretty face. "Erica, what can I do for you?"

"I think there's something we need to address."

The absence of the usual flustered hatred was making him wary but, very suddenly not caring, he shrugged his shoulders, silently asking her to 'address' she thought they needed to bring out in the open. He hated the smile on her face, the slight lift of her lips and he aware of how innately smug she looked.

When she spoke, it was just a sentence, just a single question that he forced himself not react to. No response, nothing for her to detect but, it seemed, she didn't need to read or detect anything for the smile on her face, blooming, was absolutely giddy. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Ms. Kane."

It was all he could get out, grind out before he spun and took off, striding back to his office and taking sanctuary there, in the dark, hating her and how right she was, because, as much as he did hate it, she was right. His fingers fiddled, playing with papers and folders, anything to keep his mind clear. Didn't work, of course it didn't but, hey, when did anything work…?

_

* * *

AN: Make me a happy writer and tell me if you liked this! And, if you want to make a guess to what Erica might have said, please do! I swear, it's a killer... well, not literally but let's just say that Erica can be smart when she wants to be... in a nasty way..._


	32. Chapter 32

_**A Love Story**_

32)

"_Her water broke."_

_Pausing in his intent work, he looked over his shoulder, eyes falling on the woman for a moment before he simply shrugged. Clenching her jaw, she made a noise of muffled disgust and turned her attention back to the woman, laying a hand on the curve of her stomach and feeling a movement, however small, that reassured her._

"_We need to get her somewhere… to a hospital."_

_His only response was a short snort and she shook her head, disgusted but knowing it was useless to try anytime soon. Smoothing blonde hair from her eyes, she once again gave a glance to the woman, licking her lips nervously. Again, she checked that she was as comfortable as she could be before quietly clicking the door shut._

_Her brother was hard at work and she moved closer, watching, arms crossed over her chest, snapping, angrily, "Didn't you hear me?"_

_No response and she quickly darted backward when he moved from the front door of the car, straightening to peer into the seat thoughtfully. Nodding to himself, murmuring something under his breath, he looked at his little sister, offering up a slight smirk, one that didn't erase the naked relief in his gaze._

"_You hit her with that chloroform just in time."_

_She looked away and he sighed, passing her to get something from his car, where she lay in perfect silence, still out like a light despite the beginning of the labor. Yeah, just what the baby needed, more stress. "We can match up the tire tracks perfectly where she swerved. Nice catch of the wheel by the way... looks like you got pretty close to the edge there," he added, nodding at were the car sat, frighteningly close to the rim._

_Returning to the car, he frowned at the wetness on the front seat, a slightly irritated look on his face as he glanced back at her. "What's this?"_

"_I told you, her water broke!" the crazy mix of fright and adrenaline and other unsavory things were smothering and it was becoming difficult to breathe. "Her water broke and we need to get her to a hospital!"_

"_No hospitals," he hissed immediately and the look she found leveled at her made her move back a few steps, unhappily recognizing traces of their father there. Even when he wasn't drinking, his favorite pastime, there was a hint of something vicious there. Their sister had somehow gotten out with no big flaws, but them?_

"_No hospitals, I told you that. You can take her to your place or whatever but we're not taking her anyplace that she might get away from. I told you, remember, we can't let her get back to him and tell him everything." Shaking his head furiously, he leaned into the car just enough to start the ignition, starting up the car._

_They were really going to do this and all because he was feeling greedy this week._

_She glanced back at the other car, where her patient waited, possibly losing the baby, and felt something tighten in her middle. Rubbing her stomach, not caring how useless it was, she shook her head furiously, tears pricking her eyes. Why her? Out of all of the people given to her to talk to, to help, she had to get her… "What are you going to do, huh? Are you going to chain her up in some basement or brainwash her or something?"_

_The look he gave her was shockingly nasty, an ugly glittering of mocking making them even darker than they usually were. "You're a smart girl, you'll think of something."_

_He was right. The son of a bitch was right, because, even as she stood there, watching him correct any flaws he might have left in the first plan, her mind was already spinning up a way to keep herself out of trouble and get him back out of her life, even if it meant destroying a woman in the process._

_She hadn't survived years in that hellhole with their father just to waste it all now._

_She looked down at their footprints, licking her lips tiredly and knowing, full well, that they would be able to pull this off. There was just an hour of so of relative peace now before the next part of the storm hit them. From where the car went over, there'd be a slim to none chance that people would ever find that car anyway._

_And, even if they did, the fire would destroy anything else, leaving nothing but some metal husk to testify to something that had never really happened in the first place. She paused, shaking her head. But it was true, though, wasn't it? At least, technically. Dixie's car would be going over, just without her in it._

_Not all of it was a lie._

* * *

Adam didn't want to let her know anything and she could see it as easily as she could see him rubbing his hands together nervously, eying her like she was something impossibly dangerous and shockingly deadly. Making a noise in his throat, an odd mix of frustration and desperation, he stood, crossing over to the mantle, his eyes latched onto the pictures scattered across the top.

She opened her mouth, intending to make him talk when his voice reached her, oddly ragged, something that unsettled her badly. "I know I'm not a good father. I know that and I get that and I try. I don't succeed, I never have, but I try anyway because, believe it or not, I do love my children."

He looked at her, turning half-way to regard her silently for a moment or so, studying the expression on her face, the quiet strength there. There was something of Charlotte there, something that had been in Charlotte before she had started crumbling so fast and so badly he'd been helpless as to what to do, feeling like some lost child. "I love my children and you are one of the only people in the world who understand that."

Something flitted through her mind, an odd sort of something that made her grimace, trying to grab it and unable to. Shaking herself, staring at him, she smiled slightly, bitterly, arching one eyebrow. "You haven't answered my question," she murmured and he gave her a vicious smile, something harsh and aching.

"You want to know what happened to our son, ex-wife of mine?" He shook his head, making that odd noise again, eyes sliding back to his favorite picture, reaching out and tracing the edge of the frame with his fingertips. "I think if I told you, you wouldn't believe it… however, since you look like you're around to strangle it out of me, I'll try anyway."

"I did it. I was the one who had to look him in the eyes and make it real. I was the one who had to do it, I was the one who had no choice and no way out and I did it. I killed his son and I took his little girl and I'm the one who made him see it." He turned, regarded her with an ache in the back of his eyes that made her throat close. "I did it while that son of a bitch was at the hospital playing hero."

* * *

Crouching at the foot of the stairs, Kate "Cady" Cole studied her mother and grandpa with sharp blue eyes, regarding them with a cool calculation that was sometimes frightening in its innocently raw intensity, honed further when she pulled out a flutter of eyelashes or a brilliant smile with the gap between her front top teeth.

Gina had helped the little girl use her natural gifts and, while the thought of her baby-sitter brought a small ache to her insides—sort of like when she had too much ice cream even though Mama said not to but Gina said what Mama didn't know wouldn't hurt her—she smiled the smallest bit, not taking her eyes off the two people talking, the quiet murmur of their voices filling the silent mansion.

A slight frown marring her delicate features, she turned and slunk back up the stairs, waving one hand furiously when she caught sight of Jinxie moving restlessly at the top of the staircase, clearly agitated by how many differences the usually relaxed dog was undergoing in such a short span of time.

Finally reaching the top, she dug small fingers into thick fur and pulled herself up, standing bare-foot in the lush carpet of the second floor hallway, patting his head as she stared down the hall, at that room, at the closed door that JR had been so upset about. There wasn't much she had a good hold on, not right now.

She knew her name was Kate but that she went by Cady and now people were saying that she was Kate and that was that. Gina said that it would be okay if she went around being called Sir Lady of the Highest Blonde Intensity because, as long as the little girl was happy, nothing else really mattered.

And then there was that guy who said he was her grandpa.

He said that he was her daddy's daddy but, seeing as how the man people called her daddy had run off when she had looked at him, she highly doubted that. JR acted like her brother, cuddling her and telling her how much he loved her enough to almost but not quite annoy her and she found that this man they called her Daddy wasn't really acting like it.

* * *

"Bess…" She thought back to those web pages, that disgusting obsession they had with things from her son's life. "Tad was getting Miranda back to her mother…" Opening her eyes, she stared at him, studied him sadly. "And you gave them the DNA?"

"Yes." He nodded shakily, eyes on that picture. "Yes, I gave them the DNA and that son of a bitch had the audacity to stand there and look at me like I was some bastard. He stood there, after I heard the results, while I was trying to find the way to tell my son that his little boy was dead and that he had nothing left that he had so desperately wanted, that bastard stood there and looked at me like I was some scum."

"I'm sure that he had his reasons…"

"His reasons? Oh, yes, he had his reasons, Dixie. He was so busy helping his filthy son run off with my ex-daughter-in-law and playing stupid to give a damn about me or my family. The second you left, Dixie, the second you were gone he simply stopped caring about our son." He jabbed a finger at her angrily, rage coursing from him like invisible smoke. "Our son didn't matter when he didn't have yours pants to get into!"

It was like a slap in the face and she took in a sharp breath, held it for long moments, calming herself before looking back at this man, the father of their son, who looked so frightened and helpless as she stared at him. "I heard that David Hayward was the one who figured it out. I read that Erica was the one who told Tad after she found out."

"It's a lie," he snapped immediately and she shook her head furiously. "Tell me what happened. Stop ranting and raving and, please, tell me what happened. I mean, none of this makes any sense. Tad—Tad would die before letting someone suffer like we did. We lost Bess, Adam. You know what that feels like, Adam. You lost Anna Claire, you know that pain… he wouldn't just let a mother grieve like that."

"He did." The same force behind it, the same anger.

"It makes no sense! Tad would not go running around town knowing full well that a baby that was thought to be dead was alive... it makes no sense and we both know that."

"He took it too easily, Dixie." He moved closer, bending to meet her gaze intently. "He didn't even jump the smallest bit when he found out that Bess was Bianca's daughter, he never even looked shocked. A few days before I heard this, Hayward saw me and Miranda at a park and he looked like he was going to pass out. He had no connections to us and he still had no chance at hiding how emotional he got when he saw her, knowing full well that she was his goddaughter and you and I both know how good that son of a bitch is at lying."

"You're wrong."

A long silence before he shook his head, looking bitter. "Once again, Tad can do no wrong."

"It just… that isn't Tad… everything's still hazy and a lot of stuff is still clouded and but I know that he would not do this."

"He did it to me."

"No—" She held up a hand, her gaze getting the slightest bit angry now. "What Tad and I did with our son is different than what Jamie and Babe and Krystal did to Bianca Montgomery. You knew that he was fine, even if you weren't able to get to him. What Krystal and the others did was completely different, Adam. They let someone grieve for a child when all they had to do was tell that truth and stop pulling Haywards on DNA tests."

"You don't know everything—"

"Then tell me!" Dixie caught his hand, gripping it tightly. "Not with Bess and Miranda and our grandson… this didn't start overnight, Adam, things like this don't just pop up!" She pulled him closer, locking both hands around his. "Tell me why JR brought home someone who went off and slept his brother, tell me why Jamie is off somewhere with that… _woman_! Tell me why my son is acting like someone I don't know and I can't help… please… start at the beginning."

* * *

Kate "Cady" Cole was a curious child, at least by nature and, right now, she found herself moving forward helplessly towards the room, feeling the same way she did when she decided that she would not eat any of the cake her mother had accidentally left out even though she was already poking the edge of it with a fork and how she felt when she knew she shouldn't be doing something bad but she found her hands moving towards the balloons and pudding all of their own.

Turning the knob very quietly and very carefully, she peeked in, finding it black inside, and filled with something that reminded her of when she got sick and Mama and Gina would be walking around and watching her like she was growing a second head even while they stared at her… the same way Ms. Janine got nervous whenever Mama got those bad headaches.

With one last stealthy whisper for the dog to hush, she pushed the door open, the dim light from the hallway spilling in and falling across the crib, reminding her of the fake monsters in the movies that Mama didn't want her watching with Gina but Gina would sneak in anyway because, of course, what Mama didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Stretching on her toes, her fingers brushed against the switch and she bounced as high as she could, flicking it up and lighting up the room, studying the many decorations intently, holding Jinxie at her side as she quietly clicked the door shut behind her. Moving forward, hoping Mama didn't catch her in here now that Gina wasn't around to get her out of trouble, she stopped at the crib, watching and not quite understanding why.

Her eyes shifted, sliding across decorated walls and then the shelves that held so many books, some that had been dropped and left on the ground, nobody bothering to pick them up. Bending, she picked one up, studying it and taking a few moments to piece together the title, something about a good-night and a moon. Quickly losing interest, she set it on the table nearby, eyes flitting over the higher shelves far above her.

* * *

"Babe Carey is good at lying." He paused, his eyes on the hands holding his, the hands that had rocked their son to sleep at night, the hands that had signed those papers and let him love his son, even if he didn't do it right. "She was good at lying and she smiled and she told him that she loved him and, like the man you wanted him to be, he believed her."

He twisted his hand, pulling it out of her grasp and stepped back a few feet, slipping hands into trouser pockets. "He brought her home and she slept with his brother….on her honeymoon." He shook his head, snorted slightly before adding, "Or, at least, we thought it was her honeymoon… she was already married to another man, so, hey, what's the problem, right?"

"And, of course, since Tad wouldn't dare do anything to hurt JR, of course not, he decided to keep the lie. And, of course, the lie came out and, since this is Pine Valley, it was all very dramatic and then, like an idiot, he forgave them. He forgave of them, Dixie, like they were worth being forgiven after what they did."

She was staring at her hands and he wondered if she remembered Jamie, Brooke's little boy, yet another thing that Tad martin had taken from him, that son with Brooke, the son that was supposed to be his with Brooke's… yeah, and look how the little twerp had turned out… some son of Brooke's, abandoning her like she meant nothing to him… "And then, of course, JR found out that she had never really been married to him in the first place."

"And…"

"And then we decided to rub our hands together, twirl our moustaches and cackle evilly… What do you think we did, Dixie! We tried to keep JR's daughter safe from that whore and that lapdog of a step-son of yours!" Gesturing harshly towards the second story, he snapped, "That lapdog that was running around like a dog in heat, trying to prove that babe loved him and that what JR and her shared was all a lie. It may have been a lie on her part but, clearly, he never knew JR to begin with if he could so quickly decide that his brother was a heartless SOB, right?"

"Adam—"

She never finished, going silent when they heard the sound of something crashing overhead. Staring at each other for long moments, simply staring at each other, they both moved towards the door in a shared movement, moving side by side as they swept up the stairs and towards wherever the hell the sound had come from.

* * *

And then she froze, eyes gluing to the fading image right smack dab in the middle. It was her mommy. Her hair was longer and darker and she didn't have those lines around her mouth and eyes from sitting up all night but it was her mommy. Her interest piqued very quickly, the girl effortlessly yanked out the two bottom drawers, leaving one farther out than the other and, promising the now sighing dog that she wouldn't fall on him, she pulled herself up.

She moved like a monkey, yanking herself up and then sitting on her knees on the dresser, looking down at her dog. He was just a foot or so below but, to her at least, he was miles away and, squashing down the nervous flutters in her tummy, she straightened, holding the shelves and scrabbling for the bottom of the frame.

A split second later she bit back a startled shriek when it fell past her face, narrowly missing the dog and landing hard on the rug-covered carpet below her and she cringed when other things toppled after her, little things that didn't quite look like they belonged up there, music boxes and little trinkets. She heard glass shatter at the force, even with the thick material between floor and frame. Trying to ignore the dirty look that Jinxie was leveling at her, she climbed down quickly, holding her breath and waiting for her Mama to come rushing in.

When there came nothing, she scuttled forward and, eyeing the bits of glass warily, she bent, picking up the heavy frame with her little hands, gripping the edges and studying it thoughtfully, curious to see the three people. It was her mommy and she grinned slightly to herself, having never seen her mommy look so young before. They had no pictures at home, none other than of her growing up but still, she found herself grinning almost absurdly in the nursery.

And there was that guy that they said was her daddy, sitting beside her, and holding and the little guy in her mommy's lap and, glancing at the closed door, she wondered if this was her big brother before he had gotten so big. Beaming, eyes glittering, she got a better hold on the shattered frame, studying the faces that smiled back at her, noting how happy they looked.

She suddenly squeaked when the door opened and she found her mother staring at her, eyes focusing on her. In a few seconds, she had her arms crossed over her chest and her hips cocked, regarding the young child with a cool and firm gaze. Looking past her, she picked up the sight of—

"Hi, Grandpa!" she cried brightly, shooting him a bright smile despite the dark look her mother gave her.

With a strained noise and a slight roll of his eyes, he left, muttering quietly under his breath as he stomped off, vanishing. She looked towards her mother, offering a small but hopeful smile and then she sighed quietly when her mother moved forward, plucking the frame carefully from her tiny hands and simply pointing.

With the air of a prisoner marching towards her execution, she slunk out; Jinxie on her heels, heading towards her bedroom, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she trudged out of sight. Sighing, knowing innately that Adam had run off and hid like a big baby with issues, she stalked back downstairs, finding the room empty.

Fine… she'd just have to tie someone down and torture the answers out of them…

She stared down at the frame, stared at the faces that smiled back and swallowed thickly, eyes rising to the image of father and son so proudly displayed for all the world to see. Setting the shattered frame carefully just beside the other, she found that it was a pitiful sight, sharp edges of broken glass glittering nastily in the light.

It was all broken.


	33. Chapter 33

_**A Love Story**_

33)

Brooke English, it seemed, was a woman of many talents. Upon realizing what their night would entail and how long they would spend in her office searching for any loophole to use against Chandler's loophole, she had proceeded to order food and gone out to get it.

Processing that last thought, Buck paused in his reading before letting out his breath tiredly, thoroughly grieving for the loss of grammatical grace that raising a teenage daughter had caused in the man. He loved his daughter but the point was, she was his daughter and, because of that, she had been a hellcat even during her calmest years.

Raising his head when the door opened, he took note of the bags dangling from one hand thankfully and then leaned forward, taking them and setting them on her desk as the drinks tipped dangerously. Letting her purse drop to the desk, she set the drinks down carefully, pausing as she noticed him pulling something out of his inner coat pockets.

Noticing the raise of her eyebrows, he held up the pill case and offered a dryly amused smile as he snapped one or two compartments open, dropping the caplets into his open palm. "I've had a lot of health drama in the last years, Ms. English." Catching her look, he added, "Brooke."

"What kinds of health drama?" she questioned as she set his drink before him, opening the bag and starting to search inside. "I'm an editor, so I'm sorry if this is rude but you've managed to keep the press out of your existence for quite while considering how much drama you and daughter have been involved in."

"So which is it," he chuckled quietly, swallowing the first pill down, glancing at her thoughtfully. "I'm either too much drama or I hide myself very well for a man of my caliber."

Brooke set a Styrofoam container before him along with several napkins and plastic fork; silently thankful they had gotten rid of those disturbing and irritating "sporkes" so many places used. They had been the bane of her existence as a mother, Jamie having a fondness for poking and jabbing at her business suits with them when she wasn't looking.

Many a blazer had been ruined in the seemingly endless English vs. mini-Martin "spork" battle of his childhood.

"The effects of the bullet in my head, I admit, is the worst of the lot but, Hell, there are times that I'm amazed I'm even alive with what this body has been through." Another pill was downed as she studied him silently. "That's where the blindness comes from, you see. Not bad these days, I've spend many years working to improve the eyesight, but the truth is, it'll never be completely whole again."

"So, what, somebody shot you and you woke up blind?"

She was a woman of tact, wasn't she? "No, more like I woke up okay, and later started losing my eyesight because, apparently, surgeons can only pull out so many bullet shards at once. A few months after I got home with my daughter, I started getting blurry vision, then one morning I woke up and couldn't see anything." He cocked an eyebrow, offering a crooked grin. "A few of the shards had moved in the couple of months and they went back in and removed those."

"And now?"

"Now?" At her nod, he sighed slightly, fiddling with the brim of the hat set on the corner of her desk. "Well, now, Brooke, I'm a half-blind cowboy with lingering back problems—that's from when my plane went down, remember—and, of course, the heart attack from the stress of the shooting. Add to that numerous illnesses that were a direct effect of the aforementioned health problems and my daughter has spent more of her life nursing me when I have problems than she has spent with people younger than mid-forties, all business men if you're curious."

Finally dropping the empty bag into the wastebasket by her desk, the redhead settled into her own chair, opening the container that held her meal—an assortment of meat and vegetables—and stabbed one piece of pepper steak, biting it off her fork and chewing thoughtfully, watching him study his food. "Good?" she questioned lightly.

His answer, punctuated by the flick of a piece of sweet and sour chicken adorning the end of a fork, was a chuckle and a nod, leaning back and setting feet back on her desk, grinning to himself and deciding that, just maybe, the next few weeks in Pine Valley wouldn't be that bad.

* * *

Jack hadn't been in the mood to worry about Erica and the casino this evening, not with these worries about his children.

Lily, at the moment, seemed the most balanced, something that both worried and encouraged him, an odd blend of emotions that he disliked as he sat on the couch, fingertips tracing his leather wallet, feeling the slight change he had detected as soon as he lifted it from his desk several hours before.

Greenlee, for her part, had become hollow in her movements over the last months, had come to exist in an autonomic mode as she worked at Fusion, called him loyally once a week, and pranced around like a Stepford wife as Mrs. Lavery. Things had suddenly shifted a few days before and it baffled him, although it also left him with his own suspicions considering the 'why' behind it.

If he was right in his unhappy suspicions, he'd soon be going after Hayward with something large and heavy to cave in the doctor's thick skull…

But it was Reggie that, as always these days, held his largest blend of worry and fret, especially since just after Miranda's return. One day his son had been planning to steal baby-sitting time from Jack and Erica regarding Miranda and the next, he had gone quiet and withdrawn from Jack with such speed and perfection it left Jack's head spinning.

Jack didn't know how to be a father and had accepted long ago that he'd never really understand the mechanics behind it because, really, he couldn't grasp it at times, that his children, his children for God's sake, depended on him, that they needed him in a way that not even Erica needed him in her worst moments.

He knew where he stood with Erica, even when things got bad, very bad but he never, ever had sure footing when it came to being a father to these children who weren't even children anymore, not really. Greenlee was grown, a strong woman with the reins of a company under her hands and Lily, though young and clearly unsure of some things, at times seemed more aware of the mechanics of the world than he could say he was.

Reggie, though…

Tiredly, shaking his head softly, he opened the wallet, taking silent note of how many bills were missing and then closing it again, setting it at his side and staring dully at the coffee table before him with usually sharp eyes, now gone hazy in his quiet, unspoken confusion regarding this sudden slip.

What the Hell had changed?

* * *

Torres' glass had a slight mark of pink, the touch of lipstick along the edge and she shifted her attention, catching sight of the other glass. Seeing Simone threading her way through the crowds, probably to get the ice for Maxie's poor ankle—Harley always had known the mechanics of the other woman's mind—she grabbed up the other one, slipping it into the plastic bag and into her large bag, darting quickly away from the table.

It was all almost too much for her, especially if what Maxie said turned out to be truthful. The youngest Cambias—except for the itty-bitty Montgomery daughter—Maxie had enough plans going on, all at once, to make Harley's head spin with the attempts to keep them separate. Brothers, daughters, sons… she didn't even know anymore, not really.

The fact that Kincaide was in town didn't ease her worries and, almost expecting the petite banshee to pop up, lungs a-blaring, she glanced over her shoulder as she headed for the doors of the casino, but saw no sign of the angry young woman with way too many stiletto heels and skirt suits… honestly, was that all she ever wore!

Finally getting out, she took off across the concrete, heels clicking and echoing loudly in the stillness, loud and sharp against the muted noise from the casino. Digging past her little finds, she grabbed her keys from the inside of her bag, unlocking the door of her car in the far corner of the main parking lot.

Honestly, the Cambias family was like the Baldwin family… somebody shakes the tree and another one drops off…

* * *

JR had to admit, it was nice to be worried about.

Fingering his empty glass absently, he felt an odd sense of pleasure at the worry that he could pick up from Kendall as she picked at the smooth top of the bar. She had Miranda back, had what she so desperately needed and she still gave a damn about him and that… that was so very special…

"What about Chandler Enterprises?" he asked suddenly, turning his head to regard the closest thing he had to somebody he could trust with curiosity edged with something akin to a childish kind of need. "I mean, I saw Malone when I came in and she was walking around like she owned the place so, I mean… the plans haven't changed, right?"

"Of course not," she snapped, flicking her wrist and the fingers of that hand, as if dismissing his concerns without a thought. "Everything's going fine right now… Livia's one of the best and she's in Zach's corner." She stopped suddenly, freezing and eyeing him with a slight wariness. "And… um… other things."

"Other things?" he echoed, blue eyes narrowing and his face chilling, looking uneasily like a young, not-so silver-haired Adam. When she looked away, he grabbed her hand, tugging it repeatedly, knowing it pissed her off and she snapped around, scowling at him, suitably pissed enough to snap something about charities and clubs.

"What!"

Kendall just shook her head, waving that hand again, something that irritated him beyond words; sick of being dismissed by people who weren't supposed to dismiss him, not after all they said they would do. "Kendall—"

"Why can't your father leave well enough alone?" she snapped, turning on the stool to bring full attention to the, flinging her hands out like some ruffled bird flapping her wings. The flash of her finger bling, glittering brilliantly in the light, only enhanced her image, as did the nest of curls and the slight touches of shading on the blue dress. "We were giving him back his company, your company and he pulls crap like this!"

"I don't understand a word you—" He stopped, confusion easing as he stilled, eyes flashing and then he snapped a hand out, stopping the nervous movements of her hands in her lap. "Crap like what, Kendall… crap like what? What, exactly, did he pull without you, me or Brow Boy knowing?"

"Okay, you will not go around town, calling my husband 'brow boy', okay!" At his look, she scowled again, more childishly as she glared down at her hands. "Apparently, your father doesn't like Ms. Texas… he, did something… with the papers…" She glanced him another nervous look, scrunched her shoulders a little bit before blurting out brokenly, "Your father broke the contract we all made up and it's all _his_ fault!"

* * *

Leaning one shoulder against the door to her loft, Micaela bent one leg, reaching down to slip off one heel and then another. That done, she entered, locking the door behind her, heels dangling from one hand as she trudged into the main part of what would eventually become her home if she tried long and hard enough.

Micaela was not, by nature, a happy woman. Two years of her childhood had been ruined and, as far as she was concerned, the unhappiness of her life during that period had permanently soured what should have been a happy, rich-girl existence. Most women, like her, would have settled into a Paris Hilton-esque existence with blank stares of stupidity when anything like intelligence was needed.

Micaela was usually proud of her intelligence and tried using it whenever she could and that, in essence, was why she found herself feeling so very disappointed in herself as she dropped her heels, letting her blazer follow minutes later and finally eased herself onto the couch, something that still had the tag on.

Pressing her palms against the sides of her face, she let out her breath harshly, feeling heated, stunned at what it was that was upsetting her so badly about all this. The loss of the club had been a slap in the face but the realization that the bastard, after fully digesting Livia's words, now essentially had full power over the Foundation had been the punch in the gut.

What was she going to do?

Closing her eyes, struggling to loosen the knot of panic forming in her gut and the tightness in her chest, she concentrated on simply breathing, breathe flowing in and out of her, something she could, at least on some level, control. Letting out a frustrated noise like some angry child, she dragged fingers through dark hair, threading the black tresses, breath catching at the thought of him destroying it.

She knew why she had created it but she never put it into words, not with what it would mean. A slap in the face to her father after all they had been through together in her life, the doting daughter and flawed father united against the nastiness of the world, against people like Lynette, who played with lives with not a single care to who suffered while she tried to get what she wanted.

And the anger was there, her constant companion for so many years, it rose up again, memories of that heartless bitch causing it to ignite, an inner blaze that made it hard to hear anything but the blood pounding in her ears and the heat scorching her skin and the sudden inability to fill her lungs with the cool air of this place she had brought.

Her hand swept up, sending a half-unpacked box on the coffee table crashing to the floor, contents spilling out to litter the floor like the silent victims of some massacre, photo albums and plastic containers filled to the brim with glossy images of what had been tainted by that woman and her hatred of her father.

Leaving them there, refusing to look at them when she felt like this, she stood, striding away from the couch and table and the mess, purse dangling from tingling fingers and then turning towards the bedroom, snatching the phone off the dresser and dropping onto the bed, the cradle of the phone in her lap.

Digging the card out of her purse, which she dropped at her feet, she punched in the number and then, with fingers clutching the cradle with white-knuckle force, gripping the phone between shoulder and ear, she waited for Livia Frye-Cudahy to pick up the phone and answer a few of her burning questions.

* * *

The cell phone was ringing and, really, Tad could not care.

Thoughts of going home, not that it felt like his home anymore, were unappealing at the least and disturbing at the most and he was hesitant to bring thoughts like these and memories like this into where he and Dixie had once lived, didn't want to contaminate what lingering happiness was there from before, however small and slight it was.

And, God forbid, what if anyone should be there?

He wanted, more than anything, to find some small place to curl up into and simply die. That had to be better than this mix of emotion that, if anything, grew with every heartbeat, tangling and knotting up his gut and his chest, making it hard to do anything else but wallow, drowning in them.

It had taken a good fifteen minutes just to move away from the door, ease himself into the office and take a seat, moving like some beaten man who had nothing left to give. Now inspired by the sudden flow of metaphor, he snorted bitterly, quietly, rubbing his hand over the savage but empty smile twisting his face.

Everything hurt.

His eyes and his head and his heart, bruised and aching in the fragile stillness of the silent office, and he was wary of everything, half-expecting a shadow to come at him or, and this thought came with a slight flicker of hope, the ground would move up and swallow him whole, which would have to be better then this.

Tipping the bottle of alcohol, he wasn't even curious as to what variety he was tossing back, he poured a bit more as well as he could, which wasn't all that well. Some sloshed too hard, out of the glass and onto the table, pooling. His hand was shaking, hence the sloshing of the booze and he put down the bottle carefully, leaning closer to the table and staring into the glass.

He couldn't pinpoint it exactly and God knew he had tried, hadn't he?

He felt like some kid at the beach, watching his so-carefully constructed little sandcastle simply fade away, bit by bit, with each wave, the rush of water ripping it away and dragging it all down to nothing. And in the end, there would be nothing left to testify to its original existence but his own memories, ones that were becoming viciously tainted and muddied by all of these little seconds of time, little heartbeats of his existence.

Blinking, he studied the glass, listening to the ringing continue, wondering why this person wouldn't just drop it and try later. His eyes shifted slowly to the phone, staring silently at the flashing blue light, looking almost angry in the frightening shadows around his broken form, ones that he felt shifting, moving closer, tightening up like a noose around his neck.

Reaching, he lifted it up, staring at the number and name before shaking his head dully and dropping it back to the table, lifting the glass with one hand and throwing it back, shaking himself at how strong it was but grateful for the harshness, almost hoping it would clear all of these things for him, explain things that he didn't understand.

It didn't, of course it didn't… couldn't have anything be easy for him, right?

* * *

"Do you know where Mrs. Martin is?"

Jerking, Joe looked up from the phone that sat in the cradle like some coiled serpent, staring at the young woman who stood there, heels dangling from her fingers and looking bone-weary as she leaned against the doorway to his home office, studying him with interest and something in the back of her eyes that made his chest tug uneasily.

"She's already gone to bed," he responded, turning his chair to give her his full attention but she shook her head furiously, looking everywhere but at him as she straightened, standing tall. "It's okay, I was just wondering…" Another shake, this one slightly ragged and, when she took a small step back, he questioned cautiously, "Is there anything you need to talk about?"

She gave him a look and he grinned the smallest bit at the twitch of a smile there, just a twitch but still… "I'm just exhausted, Dr. Martin, you know? I spent the last few hours running around a casino with Mags and her boyfriend and I'm just in sore need for a good sleep… when you see Mrs. Martin, just tell her that I got home all right."

Before he had even managed to nod, she had turned and was gone and he sat silently, eyes back on the phone, listening to her movements as she darted upstairs and then the click of the door behind her closing. When the final sounds had died down, when no other noises, however quiet, came from above, he reached back out and plucked back up the phone, fearless as he punched in Tad's work number, content to sit up and wait as long as he had to for a response.


	34. Chapter 34

_**A Love Story**_

34)

Adam had gone out of his way to make Stuart and his wife understand that he had yet to forgive his brother for helping Liza run off with Colby. However, the blood ties between the brothers had once again connected them on Christmas Eve and her husband had spent a good day and half at the mansion, trying to console and do what he could for his brother and nephew.

JR, for his part, refused to let anyone in and it was only after Kendall Hart had arrived, the joy of having her niece back dimmed by the knowledge of what it had cost her friend that Adam had managed to get food into the nursery, which had been at least a start, right? Adam, according to Stuart, was in his own spiral and, after accepting those few moments of comfort, he had rejected any other consoling.

Therefore, Stuart had come home and done the one thing he knew he could do without hesitation or confusion… he baked.

Now, smelling strongly of banana nut muffins and her husband's infamous coffee cake, a bit of which decorated the edge of her sleeve and proved, along with the lipstick that decorated her empty mug at home, her own affection for the latter, Marian Colby Chandler stood at the front of the Chandler mansion. Peering in with sharp eyes, she searched for any sign of Dixie Cooney or that adorable little girl of hers.

Of course, she would not mind finding her nephew either…

With a hum-like sigh, filling her lungs with the crisp morning air, the sky above still slightly dark with night, Marian plucked the mansion key from her handbag and, with a flick of a wrist and a quick step, moved into the mansion, stowing the key away and locking the door behind her.

Very quickly, she noticed signs of the small child, finding several of the paintings tilted and one of Adam's elegant neckties looped around a stone dog, tied in an impressively neat bow. Frowning, stepping forward, she realized that it was an actual dog, sitting there, looking horribly depressed and embarrassed, and letting out a morose sigh as she flicked a finger at the tie.

It was indeed Tad's child, of that she had no doubt.

Giving the dog a consoling pat on the head, she moved forward, deeper into the house, heading towards where she could make out the quiet sounds of a voice, apparently talking to thin air. But it was feminine and familiar and Marian zeroed in on it like a dog after a steak, quickly moving forward and stopping, staring into Adam's large den.

In one corner, in a nest of a quilts and surrounded by ties of every color imaginable lay the child and she studied her for a few minutes, taking in messy blonde hair and a pixie-face, the tiny build and the fingers that were wrapped tightly around a Faberge egg. Sitting on her knees in front of the girl, attempting to pry the child's fist open, was Dixie, phone held between shoulder and ear, sounding angry and frustrated as she kept her conversation going in a quiet whisper.

Finally succeeding, she had stood and was looking around desperately for a place to put the collectable when she noticed Marian and indicating that she was slightly busy with the call, handed over the egg, quickly darting out of the room. Marian, checking that the egg was in an okay condition considering, finally found the stand, wrapped in a bowtie in yet another tie, and set it back up on the mantle, dropping her gaze back down to the child.

Oh, yes… Tad's child…

Picking up Dixie's shape slipping back in, she watched as the younger woman set the phone down, slamming it slightly, brow furrowed in clear irritation. "I'm sorry I didn't let you in, I was trying to save one of Adam's… egg thingies…" Moving to the couch, she shifted a few of the heavy photo albums that decorated it, indicating that the other woman take a seat. "I'm so happy you came."

"Well, of course, dear." Brushing off any remnants of the coffee cake she had just noticed, Marian took her seat, setting her bag to her side and, leaning forward, she gave in and wrapped arms around the other woman, laughing softly at the warmth and the realness there, not letting go until she picked up a tenseness in the other body. "Although I have to wonder what you're doing up right now."

"Oh, um… couldn't sleep," Dixie finally answered, looking distinctly uneasy as she played with the edges of the albums, fingering them with pursed lips and eyes that had darkened with some strong emotion. "Plus, she woke up about one in the morning and couldn't get to sleep for another two hours or so."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

Marian was aware that she was being studied, much like a subject in a laboratory and, if anything, she preened herself the smallest bit, tugging her clothes in slight movements and adjusting her earrings and necklace, checking that her wedding ring was catching the light just right. "Mrs. Chandler."

"Oh, call me Marian dear… Marian, Marian, Marian."

Leaning back in her own seat, Dixie, still watching the older woman, suddenly nodded quietly to herself, as if she had just come to some very important decision about Marian Colby Chandler. "I've been up all night waiting for JR to get home and I found these books." Marian knew full well that you didn't just 'find' Adam's photo albums… he kept them up, except for a select few he left out for close family and, she knew, that most of the ones spread around them were from Adam's own personal album collection. "And I've decided to get a good hold on the family again."

_Curious…_ "So, then, Stuart was right… you don't remember?"

"No!" Marian jumped the smallest bit, surprised at the heat and slight panic apparent in Dixie's voice but she quickly went on, in quieter tones, "I just, mean, that things are hazy. Things are cloudy and a little bit hazy and I'm missing some— some chunks of time but, other than that, I… I have my memories, Marian… I'm still Dixie."

"Yes, of course you are," she agreed immediately, reaching out to pat the hand slightly, a bit unnerved by all of the things she was seeing in her… well, what were she and Dixie, actually? They had both been married to Chandler men but, couldn't quite be called in-laws, right? And then… of course, the whole… Tad… thing… "Of course, you're Dixie."

There it was again, something just barely perceptible at the back of the Cooney's eyes, something that flittered and fluttered and remained beyond Marian's understanding, only knowing that she didn't like it being there. Finally, with a bright chirp that was belied by that _something_, she answered, "I was Diana for a while there!"

"Was that JR on the phone?"

"What?" She glanced at the phone that Marian was focusing on now and shook her head furiously, flicking her wrist in that direction absently. "No, not JR… that was just one of my doctors from Switzerland. Um, she was just worried about my stress over here, she wanted me to go back until, um… until I was ready."

"Oh. Well, Dixie, if you need some more time, I'm sure you can just go back for a few weeks—"

"No."

The sharpness behind the words startled her and she raised her eyebrows, causing Dixie to clear her throat nervously, rubbing her neck with one slender hand, the bags under her eyes seeming to darken in those few heartbeats, staring down at her lap, before she finally spoke again. "I'm ready now, Marian… Janine's just worried about nothing."

"Ah."

"Marian?"

Really, was she being filmed on some reality show or something? Marian, now edging towards a frustration driving on her simple confusion regarding the last several minutes of strange conversation, asked, "Is there anything you need to talk about, Dixie? I mean, I came here, I assume, for a reason, right?"

"Yes."

Had Dixie always suffered from this inability to speak?

"Then what, may I ask, is it?"

Dixie opened her mouth, leaned forward and they heard the front door crash open. "Damn it." Dixie was out of the room before Marion had even gotten to her feet and she quickly followed, stopping just inside the threshold behind Dixie. "Where were you?" Moving past JR quickly, she shut the door, locking it before turning back to her son, stopping as she took in his appearance. "JR?"

"I fell asleep in my car."

"But—"

He had already started up the stairs, trudging upwards almost at a shuffle, gripping the banister as he did so. Staring after him for a few moments, Marion shook her head sadly, turning back to his mother. "Darling?"

She got no answer, the other woman simply continuing to stare up at where JR had vanished. With her arms wrapped around herself and with shoulders hunched, she looked for all the world like a lost child, scrambling for some place to get her feet down, to just find her balance before the world tipped and danced again.

When Marion cautiously set a hand on her, very lightly, she jerked, casting her a look with weary eyes. "I don't understand any of this," she finally whispered brokenly and Marion swallowed, suddenly wanting to slap herself silly. Of course, of course… a lot of things had changed, hadn't they?

"I can't find any answers, Marion, and nobody wants to give me any real answers." She rubbed at her eyes, shook her head exhaustedly, swallowing roughly. "Adam wants to vent his frustrations on whoever he can find and, well, I don't trust anything I read in the papers regarding my son."

"There are other people in our tangled family, Dixie."

The naked look she received was answer enough and Marion snapped her mouth shut, studying her silently for a few minutes, thoughtfully. Okay, fine, she could handle this. "Go get a coat on." When Dixie opened her mouth, Marion lightly shook her head, hooking her arm and guiding her towards the coat rack, prodding it with one finger.

"Get your coat on and I will go track down Winnie, she must be here somewhere, and we will leave your daughter in her care. Stuart is leaving early this morning to check in one something at the House with Brooke so we'll have the gatehouse to ourselves. We can talk, just us girls, without any Chandlers or Martins nosing in where they're not welcome."

There was another lingering glance up the stairs before, with a broken nod, Dixie began to slip into her coat and, heading off to track down Winnie, knowing full well that the woman never slept or went home, she was unspeakably grateful for both their sakes.

* * *

Zach hadn't gotten back from the casino.

Standing in front of her front window, watching the other condo, Kendall gnawed her thumbnail, a silent look of worry on her fine features, something that nagged at her like some kid wanting a lollipop. Sighing, thoughts of Miranda flitting through her mind, she dropped her eyes, settling her gaze on the diamond that decorated her finger.

It felt right and it wasn't supposed to feel right, right?

Everything was getting all confusing now, more confusing than before and that was saying something. Trudging away from the window, knowing innately that he wouldn't be coming back to the condo today, Kendall slipped into the kitchen area, prodding her cold coffee with a spoon thoughtfully, her lips pursed with something she couldn't quite name.

It was all supposed to get better now that Miranda was back in Bianca's arms, where she was supposed to be, as it should be and yet, it wasn't. If anything, things were becoming more twisted to Kendall's vision and Bianca, she knew, was going through something that made her eyes hollow and her voice empty, something that Kendall couldn't understand.

Nothing made sense.

Unhappily, Kendall set the mug back down on the kitchen counter, stalking back to the large windows and peering out, searching for any hint of him. with a sudden sense of irritation, she strode out of her place and crossed the courtyard, only faltering a heartbeat before her hand came down on his door.

Maybe he was in there, hiding?

Yeah, maybe…

Pounding once, she took a nervous step back, half-expecting something to jump out at her and devour her. When she got no answer, she went back to the door and brought her palm down several times more, furiously. Still, there was nothing and she dropped her hand unhappily, looking around bleakly.

No one around, not at these hours but still…

Darting back into her place, she locked the door behind her and, like some drone, went back to the coffee mug in the kitchen, returning to the spoon-poking, glaring in the direction of her husband's condo with sharp eyes and pursed lips, angry at him for making her worried about him.

Kendall didn't want to be worried about him, too.

She was sick of worrying. Worrying about Bianca after Miranda's death, worrying about JR after 'Bess's' and his son's death, worrying about Bianca now, worrying about JR, worrying about the ozone layer and the Global Warming, worrying about the rain of toads… glancing to the left, she froze, gaze settling on the phone.

Damn it.

* * *

_AN: I want my reviews. I just finished two exams and got back from a weekend trip so I am in desperate need to be praised, even if its half-assed or fake, I need it... please... I need my fix, okay? In desperate of that, ahem... fix...come on, fix me!_

_I'll give you a cookie if you fix me... see? Cookie... want one, leave a review..._


	35. Chapter 35

_AN: I now have even more reason to hate McTrashit—have you seen the crap she's making JY act out? Sick, seriously and when this woman gets kicked out on her ass, I will be parading her sorry self down the streets of New York, making her wear bells and a sign that reads "I am the woman who decimated a show millions loved." And, then, all of us can show her how much we so 'love' her._

_**

* * *

A Love Story**_

35)

_Amy knew he was awake, she could hear the television inside, blaring as if he was proud of it and she knew if she peeked in the front window, she'd find him sitting and watching it, awaiting his dinner. Readjusting her strenuous hold on the two bags of groceries, she eased around the house to the back door and, struggling, managed to unlock it._

_Pausing on the threshold of the door, she kicked off her shoes and sighed softly at the cool air that welcomed her sore feet, enjoying the sensation for a few minutes before forcing herself to enter. The counter and stove were strewn with broken eggs and dirty pans; a pad of butter had been left by the sink; some beaten egg was dripping onto the floor from glass that lay sideways._

_Carefully setting the bags on the kitchen counter, she closed her eyes in displeasure when her foot came down on something that cracked beneath the weight and a chilly goop that sank between her bare toes. Looking down, she found yet another egg, this one now shattered from being stepped on and several bits of shell making her wince in pain._

_She wondered absently, how many of the dozen eggs had actually been ingested and how many had been wasted._

"_How was work?"_

"_Fine," she answered quickly and he went back to his television; she could see him leaning back again in his chair and, with a sigh, she could see the fold-out table set before him. Quickly putting away the food she had brought, she hobbled into the living room quietly, not moving in front of what she was watching as she bent and grabbed up what cans she could, cramming them into one of the bags she had used to bring home the groceries._

_Knowing better than to sit right now, she worked for several minutes hastily, trying to clean up what she could around his chair before a hand caught her arm, pulling her attention to dark eyes that met hers squarely, his image as the clichéd stupid drunk ruined by the glitter of nasty intelligent in his gaze. "Why are you limping?"_

_For a moment, as always, she considered not answering or lying but, knowing how he got when she was 'unappreciative,' she muttered, "My feet are sore, uncle Owen, it's nothing." Pulling her arms out of his hold, turning away, she heard him heave a sigh, shift thoughtfully as he turned the volume up, something that made her close her eyes in exhaustion but she stayed silent. "Why don't you buy yourself some new shoes?"_

"_I don't have enough money for that, uncle Owen."_

"_You act like I wouldn't loan you some."_

_She froze, biting the inside of her cheek in a sudden urge to scream when she picked up the way his voice had changed, becoming edged with anger that would have sounded almost pleasant if she hadn't known better for the last years of her life. Straightening, she looked over at him, smiling slightly. "I know you would, uncle Owen—you do so much for me."_

"_Of course I do," he snapped and she watched him lean forward, clicking off the television, his attention off her as he tossed the remote onto the plate and rolled his shoulders, still in his work clothes. "Have a good day at work?" he finally asked, for the second time, looking over and she nodded, reaching to pluck up the plate that needed to be cleaned. "Good," he said thoughtfully, nodding to himself._

_He stood suddenly, sighing deeply as he made a face. "I'm telling you, sweetheart, there's nothing more frustrating than when someone comes in and talks about how they're car is rattling." He kicked an empty box that had once held spark pugs towards her and she scooped it up, shoving it into the already full bag. "Do you have any idea how many things could make a car rattle?"_

"_No, uncle Owen."_

"_No, of course you don't," he stated, checking that his cigarettes were in his pocket before heading out of the room and down the hall to his room, finally vanishing from sight with the click of a door and her sharp ears heard the creak of an old mattress as he settled down and, thankfully, no lock to be jimmied later so that she could check that he hadn't fallen asleep with a fire hazard in one hand._

* * *

"Hi!"

Amy jerked out of her dream so harshly that she uttered a squeak of surprise and snapped her head up from its place mashed into her bed. Aware that she had a Post-It stuck to her forehead, she blinked rapidly at the little girl who stood before her, blonde hair neatly pulled into pigtails and large blue eyes peering at the brunette owlishly.

"Hi!" she yelled again, broad grin on her face as she reached out and, with one small hand, peeled the note off of the woman's forehead, smiling brightly all the while. "What's you name?"

"Sleepy," she muttered absently, looking around and grimacing at the mess she lay in, several books open and acting a pillows and papers strewn about and several pens of different colors laid out around her. Grimacing at the ache in her neck, she slowly looked more completely at the girl, recognizing with delight that this was Mrs. Martin's granddaughter. "Hi there, hi-girl," she finally muttered, rolling shakily out of the bed and trying to stand up. "You're Kate, right?"

"I am—" She stopped, so suddenly in fact that Amy looked back at her in worry, half-expecting to find her gone but the child was looking at her with wide eyes and agape in what seemed like utter and total shock. "Kid, are you—" She was interrupted by the child, who yelled, "Say that again!"

"'Are you okay'?"

"No!"

"What?"

"My name! Say it like that again!"

"Kate?"

"Yes!"

"Oh… Kate?"

An excited sound exploded from the young child as, grinning happily, she grabbed Amy and began yanking furiously, squeaking, "You have to have lunch with us, Sleepy!" Shaking her head, trying to pull away, Amy found herself being torn out of the bedroom and then towards the stairs, being dragged along like well-loved teddy bear and unable to stop her movements.

She found it oddly enjoyable.

* * *

Zach was pissing her off.

Glaring at the phone, filing her nail with a vicious precision that was making the table under her elbow shake with force, Kendall gnawed her bottom lip. Her breakfast sat uneaten and, beside her, Ethan Ramsey leaned forward and asked, nodding to the plate, "Can I have that?" She shrugged and, with a small laugh of triumph, he snagged his prize of eggs benedict.

Despite the fact that he lived at the Valley Inn, he popped up every so often and this morning, it seemed, he wanted company as he flicked through the channels on her large screen. The last weeks having been spent wooing Simone, he was apparently feeling guilty for his neglect of their odd little friendship.

Neglect he alleviated by eating her eggs, apparently.

"Why don't you just call him?"

The 'he' the Brit spoke of needed no name and, with a grimace, Kendall felt a sharp touch of pain at how the file was now sanding away bits of her skin, having destroyed a large portion of the nail. Dropping the file to the table, she eased around it and paused just enough to kick away lightly in the vague direction of the phone before continuing her way to the kitchen area. "I can't call him," she snapped, looking in her fridge for something sweet enough to knock her teeth out and finding nothing.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"It's against the rules, Ethan." Her head popped back into view, freezer door slamming shut as she scowled at him, small container of Cherry Garcia held in one hand and gripping a spoon in the other in a way that reminded him forcibly of a Samurai warrior sizing up her opponent. Shaking the thought lose, he made room as she dropped back into her seat beside him. "See… I, mean… look, it's just against the rules, alright?"

Before he could open his mouth, she had changed tack and asked, voice dripping with venom, "I heard you gave the Annoying One a ride home a while ago." At his utterly baffled look, she gave a snort of disgust and snapped, "Maxine? What, is she your newest bestest friend, or something?" she added more quietly, poking at the ice cream with the spoon.

"She hurt her ankle."

"Hah," she hissed under her breath and, rolling his eyes, Ethan managed to suggest, "She isn't that bad, you know… she's just like you—" She gave a short, bitter laugh but he kept on going, saying more loudly, "Seriously, she isn't that bad once you get to know her… besides, she twisted her ankle and needed some help."

"No, no, no… no, see, you're wrong… when I wanted attention and wanted to be recognized as a Kane, I had class, see? But her… the Sequined Wonder from Vegas…! No, see, that no-good, ugly-faced, squeaky voiced ninny wouldn't know class if it came up and bit her in the ass!"

"She's not—"

"I'm sorry, Ethan, but do you remember how she acted when Binks was in her coma? One second she's all 'Bianca is my very best friend' and then, when Binks is in need of some help, she's running after Zach, meeping about being denied!" Jabbing the utensil savagely into the icy treat, she smacked a hand on her table, furious and not quite knowing why.

"She wants her place—"

"No, Ethan, she wants her money."

That, at least, made him stop and she sighed in relief, rubbing her temples tiredly as she gnawed the inside of her cheek absently, trying to smooth her frayed nerves and her pounding pulse. By the time she had managed to calm down, her eyes had once again fallen on that damn phone.

Was it too much to call her for God's sake?

* * *

"Are you crazy!"

"Oh, Tad, don't be so loud, you'll ruin the soufflé," she chastised him softly, watching said food item with intelligent eyes and carefully pulling her oven mitts off. Turning to him finally, she smiled brightly, trying to ignore the heavy bags under his eyes and the slight pallor that made her so worried. "You need a little bit of time with your daughter."

"You ambushed me!"

"You came here willingly," she whispered quietly, poking once in the chest with one finger and narrowing her eyes. "Honestly, Tad, if you couldn't figure out why Opal and I wanted to talk to you here so badly and if you couldn't pick our little 'ambush' than frankly you deserve to be ambushed."

"My daughter and— what do you— you don't—" Each attempt to speak was cut off as, with a mother's practiced ease, she shoved another food item at him, leaving him increasingly frustrated as she effectively kept his side of this discussion to a minimum. "Mom— you don't understand— why are you so obsessed—"

She spun him and pushed him with a surprising strength, propelling him through the kitchen door and into the living room of the Martin residence, pointing over his shoulder at the table already laid out with large platters and glasses that were waiting to be filled. "You and the little dear need some time to meet each other without other people butting their way in to interrupt."

"But it's none of your business!"

"Nonsense," Opal chirped, looking at Ruth as she reshuffled her Tarot cards if her lap, a pale clothe spread out across her legs. "Where's that lovely girl who's staying here, Ruthie? The one from Texas with all that hair?" she asked, laying the stack of cards in her lap and fiddling with one large dream catcher earring. "I want to talk to her about some things."

Tad rolled his eyes.

"She's upstairs. The poor dear apparently lost her wand." At Opal's soft sound of condolence, she nodded absently, checking how the ham slices were arranged as she continued. "Apparently it does a lot of stuff on full moons or dark moons and things like that. She's been inconsolable the last few days."

"Ah, the poor dear."

Tad, still standing with his arms full of stuff, managed to catch sight of the small figure coming down the stairs before either of his mothers did and, sighing deeply, he noted that she was pulling a sleepy-looking Amy Cohen along behind her, mouth running a million miles a minute.

Cohen, in pajama pants decorated with hockey pucks and a tank top, was staggering slightly, head back and yawning hugely as the two females stepped completely into the room. Spotting her, Opal immediately patted the empty spot next to her, waving happily as an invitation. Obediently, stretching arms high over her head, the tall young woman took a seat, stretching out her legs.

"Tad, please, sit down."

Too tired too argue and secretly relieved that his mothers had come up with this before he had to, he obeyed, setting the last items on the table and taking a seat, eyes on the child now attempting to get the chance to braid Amy's hair. Sighing, rubbing his face furiously, he timidly asked, "So, Cohen… you lost your wand…?"


	36. Chapter 36

_I have good news and I have bad news._

_Let's handle the bad news first, shall we?_

_I've been an emotional wreck for a while, a lot of family drama and just a lot of mess, all around. Finally, things are beginning to calm and I'm putting up—or at least trying to put up—everything I've scribbled while suffering from the big emotional drama messiness._

_I'm going to try not to spam everybody with too many updates at once._

_The good news, my loves, is that I've spent the last two weeks working mostly in the Love Story universe… lots of organizing, and I also found a notebook of my lost notes for the umbrella fics, which does more good for me and my Muse than anyone could possibly know. Basically, I've gotten the chance to focus myself on my writing again._

_I will be doing some cleaning up of this fic, just to make sure that everything is fully on the tracks, at which point the next three updates, finished, will be posted up for everyone to read and hopefully comment on. Like I've said before, I don't abandon my writing… I can't. But things got really crappy for a while, and I'm finally getting my writing feet back under me again… finally._

_Thankfully, things are calming, which is why I'm explaining everything right now…_

_Because I'm all about the rules, at least usually, I will be deleting this AN over the next two days…_

_Watch for the three updates, because they will be coming…_

_— Missy, and Muse_


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